By Hannah Clark
It had taken no more than five sharp words. What they were, the shape and order of them, their exact quality: all details that would be forgotten over time. But damage is damage, after all, and done is done. As she tugged her pajama top down over her breasts and he rolled away to dispose of the empty condom, all of their frailties were exposed. Like a quarry illuminated by a sharp dawn, cavernous and stark and seemingly insurmountable, created long ago by long-forgotten exploration. An inescapable thirst to know what lay beneath the surface. A damage already done.
Hannah Clark is an MA student at Manchester Metropolitan University, studying Creative Writing. Her work has appeared on Litro, Reflex Fiction, and been shortlisted for The Short Story Flash 400 Autumn 2018 competition.