at the edge of your blade, and always inside the fire by Bogdan Dragos

standing naked on the wide window sill she struck a match and lit her cigarette and dragged deep listening to the tobacco sizzling inside and giving up smoke “It's not some special gift,” she says. “I don't hear things that others can't hear. It's just awareness. Being aware of the things others hear but never notice.” “Damn,” he said from the reflection in the window pane. “So everyone else is haunted. They hear and see it, but they just lack the awareness to acknowledge it?” She put her head against the glass and exhaled smoke on his reflection, painting his barb-wire limbs gray. Her good eye fixed on his snake head with a wet feather for tongue. She said, “That's right, love. Now, how about we go and set fire to a fire station?” “How will it be different from last time?” he asked She laughed. “It won't be. And…