Supper was tense that night. We both knew that that day was the threshold; once the sun set our life would be costumed in the sooty cloak of uncertainty. Three years earlier the prophets of medicine had turned their divining glances towards Marie. Their solemn sentence had been three years, possibly more if we played by the rules.
I noticed with satisfaction that she ate more that night than I had ever seen her eat. Her appetite filled me with hope that the high-priced doctors might be mistaken. After the last dish was washed, I joined her on the beach. One look at her proved the falsity of any hope. Her shrunken form was draped across one of the warped chaise lounges, a wilted and trampled rose. Her head swayed from side to side, seemingly too heavy for her stalk-like neck. Tinged by the near full moon she looked more like a shade than any living being. It hurt to see her held in the grip of a glutton that gnawed with indiscriminate patience through flesh, blood, and heart. I peeled her off the sticky vinyl fearing she would dissolve into the salty air. We stood there welded together by the thick heat. She worked her arms around me and let her fingers play on the back of my neck, intensifying the night's heat. Deep hunger tugged at me. I pulled her close and kissed her as I had when we first met. My mind exploded at the platter of flavors my tongue encountered in her mouth. Unexpectedly, the mingled flavors of the dinner we had just enjoyed was reconfigured here in microcosm. "What do you feel?" she asked enveloping me in her food-perfumed breath. Intoxicated, I said, "Steak, medium rare and a buttered, baked potato." I expected this odd answer to end my reckless probing, but she only gazed into my eyes with a look of pure invitation. Effortlessly, I gathered all of her into my arms; she was as weightless as a five pound sack of potatoes. I took her to the large upper room furnished and prepared, ready for us. It was foolish. It was irresponsible. It was an act of raw emotion. But neither of us wanted to stop. For three years we had played by the rules, living delicate lives. We were hungry for each other. I tried to speak, but words were worthless. We spent the night wrapped together, discovering a forgotten knowledge of ourselves. With each deeper connection of our bodies, I tasted more. as I sucked the flavor out of every one of her pores, I could distinguish spices, yeast, humanity, and the unmistakable taste of something foreign and malevolent. She died with her lips on mine, my soul's last supper. I left the room with her body in it and escaped to the beach to watch the waves as they scoured the shore clean.
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