The Bees
Swarms of bees, bees everywhere, swarming my nose, picking at my hair and eyes. It’s been like this forever. Some say it’s because of spring. I’ve heard people at the market claim the bees are a scourge sent by God to punish us for our sins. But sitting in my apartment, with the sun so low I can hardly see the silhouette of my own hand, all I hear is their ever present buzzing, and I think, what are my sins? Why are you doing this to me? I screamed from the rooftop of our apartment, where we had sat so many times. It had been our apartment, until he screwed her in my bed. Who the fuck are you, anyway? I screamed again, wanting nothing more than for him to hold me and tell me he’d meant none of it. His eyes were black chasms, and I knew at once, the bees had devoured them. You knew it was over, he told me. You can’t run with me to that precipice, and then not jump off. I just won’t climb back up there for you. I can’t. He was referring of course, to that damn ring I’d given back. I’d gi