My skeptical mind began making connections
that led not away from the impossible and horrific
but directly toward them.
She looked at first like anyone.
But how did she sneak up on us
with those huge heels?
"Can I join you, boys?"
Her accent was odd, definitely not Californian, it was almost
like Bettie Boop.
And no YouTuber in the post-PETA world would be dressed in such a gorgeous mink coat.
We both babbled out an invitation to the empty seat next to us.
Her smile was petrifying in its charm.
My husband could not keep his mouth or eyes shut as she gracefully,
without a sound, took the seat.
She told us about a bottle of whisky and glasses hidden under the floorboards
near the stage.
And that's exactly what I found under the discolored plank of wood she described.
Everything underneath was caked in a thick layer of dust.
I pulled out three crystal glasses and a bottle of vintage whiskey.
I used my shirt to clean off the dust and poured three drinks
while my husband looked intently for more cat memes to show her.
He did not see it, but I did.
The glass of whiskey I set in her perfectly manicured hand,
slipped clean through it.
That perfect charming expression with those dancing eyes
cracked with the glass on the floor.
She tried to recover her charm as she giggled about being clumsy.
My husband scolded me in the cute socially anxious way he does,
and tripped over himself to clean up the shards, lamenting the beauty that was once glistening crystal.