Deep

He digs her out, she’s a corpse now but he digs her out, sets her against a tree, lights a smoke and looks at her. She somehow still has that fuck-you expression, the one that says Fuck you and Fuck your family and Fuck your life and Fuck your intentions when you met me. He feels his sweat-soaked neck and back, trickles tickling almost as they run downward, especially from the armpits. Damn. She was deeper than he thought she’d be. Six feet my ass. They must have been drunk when they did it, or maybe talked too much and didn’t pay attention. But now she’s out and he’s got her. He drags on the smoke, drags again, sucks it in, then leans forward and blows it in her fuck-you/fuck-off face. Well, fuck you, too, dirty ass bitch. I did the best I could, you were the one who drove me to it. He wants to smack her but doesn’t. Instead he finishes the smoke then stubs it out on one cheek, her expression unchanged. Well, of course it is, she’s fucking dead. A fucking corpse that got buried too damn deep. He’s out of shape. Maybe digging up corpses is a good thing after all.

--Charles F. McKenzie