like the bullet you never saw coming; beth

[bethlehem]

sometimes i wonder, will god ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? B E T H L E H E M then i look around and realize, god left this place a long time ago Though it shouldn’t, her confession catches him off-guard. She has never been anything but honest, has she? Perhaps it’s not that she’s said it but that she had thought about it at all that surprises him. He has never been worth a second thought, Bethlehem. Certainly not worth thinking about too much. He grits his teeth and nods but does not speak, whatever he might have said catching on the rust in his throat. He swallows thickly in an attempt to dislodge it but nothing breaks loose. There is nothing in the aftermath but the pulse of silence. Her laughter is dry and mirthless and it grates down the ridge of his spine. He exhales and looks away. Foolish, she says. Does he agree? Foolish, perhaps, to waste so much time on someone unworthy of it. There, the brief glimpse of another rueful, fleeting smile as he studies the bed of ferns underfoot. Foolish, perhaps, for thinking that he was anything other than what he is. Good for nothing but leaving. Good for nothing but the sharp sting of anger, the bitter acid of it on the tongue. He will never be anything but this. He does not shift his focus back to her until she speaks again. It is only then that he shackles his gaze to the slight swell of her barrel. He studies it a long moment, the mouth pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. And then, as he exhales, he catches her gaze. “Is it mine?” he asks then, quiet.