This piece has been published in a Slingink anthology:
When I said ‘no’ his face came apart in my hands. Pieces of him tore my skin so cleanly that at first I felt nothing. I stood with gashes like rows of little mouths along my fingers, dripping scarlet onto the church floor. I could see his eyes in fragments, still turned on me. His lips came to rest against my foot, and angled there he spoke the words of comfort I’d scripted for him in my nightmares long ago. He told me all the ills I could escape if I were his. So one by one I collected tiny shards in my wounded hands. A lick mixed blood and tears, allowing me to glue his parts clumsily together. He was so grateful that he swore to follow me forever. Now every way I turn I see myself reflected in his eyes, as though I’m married to a broken mirror.