The Curse of Medusa

Last night I killed my boyfriend.

Not killed exactly... Petrified.

I took a front-row seat and watched as the stone crumbled and the earth rumbled on. I thought it would bring everything tumbling down. It didn’t. But my hands bled. Skin forced apart through clenched fists and manicured nails.

I waited until sunrise. Until birds chirped and the howling had long since ceased. As the sun dripped in, I could see how my life had come undone.

I brushed away the evidence with a broom.

At least now he can say I swept him off of his feet.