Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet

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Her face, rigid and fierce with renunciation. Showing teeth.

Bite.

A silent order, to be brought back to that place in which only the rough graze of mouth to flesh could bring. To carry her into him, a disciple of some long-buried trickster god.

Her eyes show the world. She experiences it all, this spectrum of humanity. He too had that once, long, long ago.

“A month. A year. Never.”

Her faces are stretched and pulled. She closes herself over. She dissolves into pure light. Her red turns uncolored. Mute. She is trapped behind, she wanted him to see her there, to say the word that might release her. Instead, she stands there.

His lips curl.

“Look at me and see your reflection.”