B — Para Kay

“It’s benign,” she whispered. “It’s just a shadow.”

A nurse came out. She didn’t smile. She looked at B like he was already a sentence in a story she had read a hundred times. para kay b

“You write about death for a living,” she said one night, sharing a cigarette on her fire escape. The city below them was a constellation of jeepney headlights. “But you’ve never touched a dead person, have you?” “It’s benign,” she whispered

B stiffened. “I’ve touched a few.” ” she said one night