All My Friends Are Superheroes Read Online Free PDF

Since the reception she’d sneezed, or hiccuped, or flailed her arms each time he’d touched her. He didn’t want her to do any of that but it was his wedding night and he didn’t want to sleep alone. He waited until she fell asleep and held her from behind. They spooned. He fell asleep holding her.
    Two hours later Tom woke up. The Perfectionist wasn’t breathing. He watched her chest. Seconds passed. Finally she took a breath. Tom wasn’t relieved; the breath was so deep her whole body expanded. Her feet came off the bed, her chest ballooned and her fists curled into balls. Ten seconds passed before her next one.
    Tom picked her up by the shoulders. He shook her. She didn’t wake up. He counted twenty seconds and still no breath.
    ‘Wake up!’ he shouted. ‘Perf – wake up!’ She didn’t wake up.
    Tom jumped off the bed. He ran into the kitchen. He phoned the Amphibian to get Hypno’s number. He bit the inside of his cheek as he dialled. He cursed the day she’d met Hypno with each number he punched.
    The thing is, the Perfectionist really did have the best sex of her life for the three months she dated Hypno. Then one morning, a Wednesday, she came like never before. Her toes curled. Her fingernails dug into his back. His cock wassomething she never wanted to let out of her, but she realized she didn’t much like the rest of him.
    Hypno held her and fell asleep. She had two hours before her shift at the diner. She delicately lifted Hypno’s hand, showered and changed. She gathered her toothbrush, the clothes she had in the third drawer of his dresser, the few things that hung in his closet, and the miscellaneous CD s and books. All these things fit in three white plastic grocery bags. She didn’t leave a note. She just left.
    When Hypno woke that morning, she was gone. He knew she wasn’t coming back. He was devastated. He couldn’t go to work. He couldn’t eat. His cat disappeared. The only way he survived the experience was by hypnotizing himself. He dangled a watch, stared at the mirror and repeated after himself. The Perfectionist became invisible to him, a spell he broke only to attend her wedding.
    Tom held the receiver close to his ear. He listened to the phone ring three times.
    ‘Hello?’ Hypno answered.
    ‘It’s Tom.’
    ‘So?’ Hypno said.
    ‘Don’t,’ Tom said. ‘I think I’ve killed her.’
    ‘While she was sleeping?’ Hypno asked.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘You touched her while she was asleep?’
    ‘I held her.’
    ‘You shouldn’t do that.’
    ‘It’s our wedding night,’ Tom said.
    ‘You can’t do that.’
    ‘What should I do?’
    ‘She’s still sleeping?’
    ‘You’d better hope so.’
    ‘She’s fine,’ Hypno assured. ‘Go back and check on her, and you’ll see. She’s fine.’
    Tom dropped the phone. He ran to the bedroom. The Perfectionist was sleeping (perfectly). Tom watched her to make sure. He sat at the foot of the bed. Ten minutes passed and her breathing was easy and regular.
    Tom got off the bed still watching the Perfectionist. He stepped on her wedding dress, then picked it up, searched around and found a wooden hanger. The dress rustled as he hung it up. It took up almost half the space in the closet. He walked back to the kitchen and saw the phone on the floor. Tom picked up the receiver.
    ‘Hello?’ Tom asked into it.
    ‘She’s fine, right?’ asked Hypno.
    ‘How do I make it stop?’
    ‘It’s pretty simple.’
    ‘Tell me!’
    ‘Are you that afraid of her, Tom?’
    ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘If you can’t figure this one out, you don’t deserve her. You really don’t,’ Hypno said. He hung up.
    Tom listened to the dial tone. He held the receiver away from his head and looked at it. He threw the phone. The receiver was skidding across the floor as the Perfectionist walked into the kitchen. She stepped over it without looking down, went to the sink and filled a glass with water. She sat at the kitchen table, staring straight