BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS

Ellie Karlin

An Angel

A girl who looked like me was standing in the snow –I cold all over, she dressed for summer, laughing.

It sounded like my laughter, but I knew it couldn’t be. My mouth had no tongue. ‘Stop it!’ I tried to shout. Though no words came out, she heard. Stopped. My anger was the dirty white of ice, muddied and melting from years of trampling feet. My anger was the golden-brown of her flawless hair, a shade richer than mine. Everything hung easy on her, like a mannequin who knew how to smile. As the corners of her perfect mouth tugged upwards to reveal straight, white teeth, she swayed on the spot. I watched, confused: when I looked down, my hand was clutching the knife handle, and from the hole in her chest, blood flowed over my knuckles, a stream of unspoken words. When, in horror, I pulled my hand away, I saw she was still smiling as she fell onto her back to lie, beautiful, an angel in the snow.

All of a sudden, I was back standing in the kitchen at home, my mother chopping onions and crying. My angel shimmered faintly on the fridge door.