“I want to cause you more pain than you’ve ever felt,” he said.
“Fair enough,” she said.
Magically, she could taste everything: the molten liquor of adrenaline, the swirling saltiness of fear, the spiced chocolate of passion, and a strong bitterness. She tasted the threadbare carpet below her feet and the hushed air above her head; with her navel, she tasted steel.
They stood nose-to-nose, iris-to-iris. Their eyes were the same color, a greenish blue found in choppy ocean waters. Between their dueling minds, nothing much was ever needed to be said.
When the gun trembled in his hand, just once, it was a sweet and sour taste she didn’t understand. His eyes revealed nothing as he steadied himself with icy resignation. She inhaled and he exhaled. Both of their watches had stopped.
He pulled the trigger. She was flooded with the taste of water. Lead met bile, love met hate.
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