121

“Hunter! “I call, shaking him.

He is lying on the door of my apartment, like an order delivered to the wrong address. Brown hair dirtys my fingers with blood when I try to measure your pulse by the neck. I lower myself a little more and listen to your breathing, it's low and irregular, but at least it means something.

Hunter doesn't move even with the bumps I give when I try to wake him up. The face is pale, swollen, lifeless. I call him for the third time, succumbing to despair and giving light pats on his injured face. It's an even more disturbing view than the first time I found him like this, at a subway station. There I didn't know our problems were interconnected.

"Suzy" he moans, half-awake.

With a boost, I lean over and press my lips on yours with a kiss. It's not pleasurable as usual, but it's a gesture of pure despair, relief. It tastes like blood, because the sides of your mouth are hurt. It's cold, because we're both exhausted and in shock. Hunter reciprocates the contact