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The Apartment #58

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He, dressed, his back towards her. Ignoring her. He, gaping-mawed, grabbed her birthday cake, plunged it in.
Fat-rolls on his sweating neck squirmed as he swallowed. He forced more in, shoulders bulging with effort. Cough-sprayed cake-crumbs bouldered; creamy spit dribbled down his smeared chin, futilely attempting escape from greasy lips.

Memory: fifth birthday, she'd watched a doll fly through the air into the face of a man who hurt her, unaware it was she who had made it happen.

Now: hands motionless, her mind directs the blade.

Crimson arc from neck to floor, arterial deluge, splash...splishsplash.

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