C O L L I D E

“You look beautiful.”
I try to ignore the warmth that his words ignite in me; a warmth so familiar to me now; a warmth I'll never feel again. What good could it do either of us for me to smile at his compliment? What use is it for me to tell him how good he looks? Where's the point in reminding him that I still want him? We both know our feelings have no influence over what is to happen. What has to happen.
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. There's a yearning in my stomach so intense I feel like my soul's dying. Maybe it is. The thought of anything happening to him is enough to strike me catatonic, and yet here I stand, poised to kill him.