I wake up to the sound of volcanoes and people screaming. Outside, Kīlauea glows. The Goddess of Volcanoes is sitting at my breakfast table, drinking coffee as she makes the world burn. I say: “I hate my life. Take it.” I rip at my shirt collar, thrust my naked breasts forward. Pele blinks. She is so, so beautiful.
Anxiety mounts and I wonder: did I come on too strongly, too like a beggar? A murderer’s least satisfying victim is the one that wants to die, after all.
Pele sits up and kisses me. Her tongue, velvet lava, melts everything away.
Andrei Șișman is a fiction author and memoirist from Bucharest, Romania.