The Scent of Your Breath

Twenty-four

One is tall and thin, with a burned face and a brown shawl that completely envelops her. She shows me her wrists and they’ve been slashed.

The other is small and blond, with blue eyes, a purple hat, and a purple shawl. She looks like a circus performer. Her legs are stumps.

A mother and a daughter stand hand in hand. The daughter has a white dog that she’s holding by the collar. The little girl’s name is Obelinda and she’s wearing a brown floral blouse buttoned up to the neck. Her mother is almost identical, although her eyes are a different color. They have gassed themselves.

A Turkish couple smile; they look as though they have just emerged from their own wedding. They’re happy and content; the woman’s wearing a pretty pink dress. I saw them smashed against the wall by a car.

When my soul returns to my body, my head is heavy and the first thing I think is: what death do my ghosts think I have died?