Killing Insects

I killed the bug with a shoe and she snapped a picture while I danced my fingers inside the sole to make sure the body was crushed. Months passed before we saw another. One another. We smashed it in a two part act, she finished it off, scraped the guts into the trash, and I told her all the things that I hadn't. Like who I met for drinks and what I did last Saturday and the story of my secret life I never told myself or anyone. We wrapped ourselves in silence like a plastic blanket: sterile, smothering. I touched her back. When I asked are you asleep she shrugged.