Sixteen Small Deaths Read Online Free PDF Page A

He frowns and shakes his head and begins to speak but I hold a hand to the air and nod. His tongue is on the edge of his teeth and I walk away from the ICU and down the stairs into the lobby of the hospital, past the front desk.
    I shove myself through a set of sliding doors and drape myself in the light of a new day.
    The morning air is crisp and I zip up my jacket, leaving a few inches open at the top. I blow into the air and a cloud of my own breath hangs in front of my face, the glitter of the future twinkling and dissipating within a few quick seconds. Each of my steps hits the pavement without sound, like I’m walking on thin gray clouds.
    The coffee shop around the corner from the hospital is nearly empty. The door jangles and startles me, the ringing replacing hollow silence in my head. I walk up to the counter and the barista looks like she’s a mannequin, eyes staring straight ahead and arms glued to the side as if she’s made of plastic. I order a latte with soy milk and silently wish to fall asleep standing up.
    When my drink is ready I take it to the corner booth, drop my blazer on the opposite seat. I peer at the world outside, expecting the morning sun to pop and explode in an array of fiery silver sparkles. It casually drifts behind a row of clouds and a hot blast of air from the latte opens my lungs. I take a small sip, remembering the last time I tasted the same mix of milk and caffeine.
    A girl sits a few tables away, her short black hair caroused into a mess like she’s just rolled out of bed. I catch a quick glance, the air between us sliced into a tiny million pieces. Her eyes are gunmetal blue and pretty soon her lips curl into a half smile. I can’t help but return the grin before taking a gulp of coffee. She looks down to her book and I see gray tights under a black denim skirt, inches of pale skin peeking above her ruby red flats.
    I finish my coffee, slide the mug to the edge of the table. The sun breaks through the steel sky, broken slices of light seeping through the window. I hear a whisper float above my ear but when I turn around I’m greeted with the stunning emptiness of the booth behind me. Deep breaths and I stand up, grab my blazer before leaving the coffee shop. I keep my vision locked to the floor as I pass the girl, not wanting to break the stillness between our quiet bodies.
    Time floats past me on the sidewalk, distant and wrinkled. Iclose my eyes and extend my arms, the echoes of Autumn’s breaths lost in the morning breeze.

The Anatomy of a Firefly
    A blanket of ash swoops across the sky like a dead comet. The burning star tip of my cigarette floats above a puddle before disappearing into a smoldering display of charcoal smoke and razorblade pops. I take a deep breath, take in the Boston evening wind and forget for a second that it’s happened again. Clock reads half past nine and a single piano note repeats in the back of my skull.
    She was nearly perfect, hourglass eyes and a smile that could frighten a ghost. Firecracker soul and pastel skin. Two shots of espresso, half of a sugar cookie. Her dimples burst with Christmas red whenever she laughed and for the hundred-and-thirty-seven minutes we spent together I figured nothing would stop my heart from glowing with bright purple light.
    And then the look. The arch of her neck and twinkle beyond the olive drab of her eyes. Quick touch of forehead against forehead, renegade locks of black-and-blonde hair falling in our faces.
    And then the kiss.
    She embraced my lips, our tongues dancing near the frosty moonlight pouring in from the bedroom window. I noticed the chilly gasp first, the way her pupils seethed with a black burst of liquid smoke. She pulled back and fell to the floor, breaths colluding together in a machine-gun rhythm. I shouted her name once and knelt next to her, held her slender fingers in mine and hoped my past didn’t repeat. She parted her lips and for a second I swore her spirit escaped through the brick