Rough House
We crash into the wall and I wish that I could freeze time. The studs creak and she has tiny specks of plaster on her nose and cheeks. I want this split-second to last, I am pressing my weight into the building, through her. I want to keep this new expression of hers in a jar, this breakfast blend of defiance and rage. Her foot snakes around my ankle and I am thrown assward into the concrete. No time to think. I roll onto her and press her shoulders. Sweat and heat makes her fragrant. I detect Ivory soap and salt. A wad of my spit lands on her face, and she says, "I love you, Shane."
Slap.
She looks startled, but now fingers are clencing a nerve between my arm and my chest and my grin fades. I yell and she throws my opposite shoulder to the floor. My head hits too. Nails rake down my chest, across my abdomen and over my groin. I flinch and her hand finds something warm, soft. She twists. I scream and her boot connects solidly with my knee. I'm dizzy. The back of my skull is throbbing.
"Red!"
It's her turn to smile now as she stands and leaves me on the cold floor. I try to gather myself together, and glance around the room to find my clothing. Missing. I'm breathless as ice pours down my spine. I see her toss a goblet of crystal, Austrian, mine, at the wall, just before I pass out.
Shall we dance?