Page 9
Story: Screwed
CASPIAN
As soon as she’s awake, I’m back in the toolbox, fucking reeling.
A body. Holy shit. I had a body. It was familiar to me. Except for the screwdriver dick, it was my body from before. I knew what to do with it. How to stand over her. How to kneel before her. How to please her.
That body was more useful than a screwdriver. It was a dream I haven’t been able to dream in a long time and I want it back.
Too much doesn’t fit into this tiny tool mind. For the first time, I’m sad about the things I’ve lost. The years I missed. The body I left. The things I could have been doing.
The toolbox lid opens. She’s peering in. Her face is so serious and her gaze is so sharp that my love pushes out all my grief.
She picks me up. Spins me the way she does, then catches my handle in her fist.
“See,” she says, “I didn’t forget you.” Then something comes over her headphones. She looks away as if listening. “Got it. Thanks.” She drops me back in the box and closes the lid.
The shift in gravity tells me we’re landing.
Did I warn her enough? Or at all?
Shit.
I don’t think I did.
I’m useless.