18

When the season came for deck lounging and idle cigarette holding, she was the best at what she did. The woman would sit on their back deck in a string bikini with a scar across her stomach. It would fade and grow when she twisted in her seat to look at me. I would get her another beer and then I would go inside. The woman persevered in the heat. Like the fucking Lizard King she would come inside the house. Legs apart. Dripping with oil, somehow. Inhaling the cool air and putting her sunglasses on her head, she stepped inside. If I went back and opened his journal…I hope he wrote an entry about a nightmare where his mother turned into a Komodo dragon and bit his leg then he would become her prey. The wound would fester and he would hide in the tall grass but she would come and he would be dragged into the sunlight.