No happy tale begins with the decision to meet a headless torso off a dating app. From where I sat, on his two-person sofa, the smoke that escaped from his last drag obscured his face, leaving only the faded glint of black eyes. It was a fitting that he remained obscured.
Staying safe is a practice that I’ve always had trouble following, but I knew a threat when I saw one. His sickle smile stretched too wide as he asked me what I wanted to drink. My throat clenched around air as he poured us two crimson glasses, I was thirsty after all.
As smooth as his movements were, the tell-tale powder that stained the rim was as predictable as his next words, “Bottoms up”. I wondered how many he had trapped in the same way, caught off guard until it was too late. I allowed myself a toothy smile as I took a sip, my tongue tracing my already extending canines. It was always a pleasure to find prey that thought they were the hunter.
