Vanity. Ares

don’t know what to say? But I thought that I should
tell you that…” Stuttering, Myra then paused as if
it were the moment of the plot twist in a movie and
I was another person; I remember thinking this
whilst I sliced the garlic bread not hearing Myra
speak anymore, but intently listening by that time,
curiously, ardently. My interest was wholly piqued.
After the stutter and silence Myra went on
and said: “I was born a man… I am actually a
transgender woman, post op, of course, but does
that really matter? especially since you love me…”
At the corner of my eye looking at Myra through
the mirror leaning on the wall, I was shocked; my
ear was burnt off, not burning but seared beyond
recognition. I remember the words: “...of course...”
like it was yesterday. Of course you are post op, I
thought. If my face could have illustrated how I felt
inside it would have been ugly; monstrous, even.
Total anger within me, as my mind raced with
epiphanies, thoughts and confusion. I don’t really
remember exactly what happened next, I think I
instinctively released the knife, I was cutting the
cheesy garlic bread with, into his arm and then
begun to tussle with Myra. We tussled, I think, and
I stabbed two more times to be now on the floor on
top of with him not moving so much. I remember I
stopped after the second stab because the KFC,
now fallen with a piece resting on my arm,
distracted me: two tragedies intersecting. Myra
gripped my arm and I then stabbed three more
times. The rest was a huge blur of screams and
shouts from within the party. I did not run, or even
think about doing so, I think I was held in some
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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