He stood in the back, mixed the high dose of arsenic into the ink, then brought the tray out front. “Ready for your tattoo?”
You may not believe me, but I miss you. I combed the woods with volunteers, knowing that they won’t find you. I visit your concrete grave.
Your face on my wall. Eternal in clear, icy crystal. July was when I took it. Did your sister in September. Taxidermist brings her tomorrow.
I kept my shirt buttoned up and makeup dull just like they said. But he didn’t seem to know that rule. I lay there, my eyes unable to close.
He took her away on his new boat, gleaming with polished wood and leather. She came back alone, smelling of saltwater and bleach.
Bill was sure he had won his struggle with the doppelgänger, but washing the blood off his hands, he saw an unfamiliar birthmark on his arm.