She blinked, surfacing out of wherever she had been, and looked at her raw hands and the broken glass in complete bewilderment.

“Marlo?

What — what am I doing?” she whispered.

I held her while she cried.

But my mind was already spinning somewhere ugly, and I am ashamed of where it went: I wondered what she was scrubbing off.

I lay back down beside a woman I was no longer sure I knew.