Twenty little lines. I hope you didn’t see me count them. Lines of fire. Of control. Straight, short, sharp, neat. Neat and tidy. Squared away. I almost followed suit. Twenty lines you couldn’t hide.
Two blue ink stains. I hope you didn’t see me make them. See them spread across the paper. Messy edges. Deep and dark. Like a crack across the wall. Like a stone thrown at a mirror. Like reflections of the moon. Two blue ink stains on my heart.