preview raze he swayed to the song the jukebox was playing and shook his head from side to side. just a little. she looked at him like he'd done something wrong. he smiled. prelude to a film that would never be shown. i remembered the toast too late. the bread was blackened. not browned. third-degree burns everywhere, but on the hips some still-healthy tissue shone through. i bit into what was worth preserving and eyed the melon in the fridge, already quartered. cantaloupe and honeydew to offset the scent of some vague sin i couldn't account for or conceal. 240421 what's it to you? who go blather from