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She had the kind of face you see on an embalming table where the bullet hole is barely visible, unless you bend down real close and kind of squint your eyes up tight, like you’re looking down a rifle-barrel when you’re robbing someone and accidentally pull the trigger and the person falls over, upsetting a display of carbonated drinks that then scatter all over the floor, and the people are all screaming and blood is thick everywhere on the floor as more commotion leads to more chaos, with a kind of domino effect that continues on out into the street as people run around the parking lot like chickens with their heads cut off, clucking and screaming insane things, really bad things, their faces agitated and their eyes on fire with fright, like the corpse that you’re looking at right now on the embalming table, the one you killed, as if the eyes can still remember what the mind no longer comprehends – that kind of face, you know what I mean?
Don
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