Thursday, May 21, 2015 |
His hands were balled tightly at his sides, every drop of hurt squeezed out of them. They were wrung clean of pain.
His eyes fell on an oil slick on the garage floor. Iridescent under the fluorescent lighting, it shimmered a palette of queasy, vividly unnatural colours, a petroleum-based aurora borealis that was a perfect reflection of the fear coiling in his gut. It was the most beautiful thing Brewster had seen in a long time. He couldn't take his eyes off it even as he listened to the footsteps drawing nearer and nearer.
From Daddy Lenin and Other Stories by Guy Vanderhaeghe ©2015. Published by McClelland & Stewart.