Artwork is “Fading Identities” by Fabio Sassi

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Curl
by Erika Price

I would curl up with grief whenever I thought he was leaving. I would hold my hands against my chest or strike my head against the wall, my face contorted as the cries came out, knowing it was wrong and manipulative, unable to stop. I am sure that I tormented him. It was only after I left that he began to torment me. He would sit in the parking lot outside my window, curled up like a hurt child, mewling and begging for cars to strike him. His pain made me feel strong, but not at all safe.

Originally published at microfictionmondaymagazine.com on April 4, 2016.

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