Page 137 of Molt

I think about it. “Quieter than I expected.”

Her lips tremble. “That’s bullshit.”

“Probably.”

She leans down, kisses my forehead then my cheek then my mouth.

Soft. No hunger. No curse. No transfer.

Just…goodbye.

When she pulls away, I can barely see her. “Sarah.”

“I’m here.”

“Stay Sarah.” The words are almost nothing. “Promise me.”

She cries. “I promise.”

“Good.”

My heart beats once. Then it doesn’t.

And for the first time since 1897, I don’ t wake up.

I don’t know how long I’m dead before Sarah realizes it.

Maybe immediately. Maybe she keeps waiting for another breath because that’s what I’ve taught her to expect.

My body doesn’t regenerate.

It deteriorates.

Fast. Too fast.

Years catch me all at once.

Skin collapses against bone. My hair grays, then falls away. My remaining teeth loosen. My face sinks.

Sarah screams my name but holds me anyway.

Even when my skin begins slipping beneath her hands. Even when the body she’s hugging becomes something old.

Ancient.

Finally honest.

Over a hundred years arrive in minutes.

My flesh darkens. Dries. Splits. The smell fills the apartment. Sweet. Rotten. Thick.

Sarah gags into her shoulder. Still refusing to let go. “Fuck you.” She sobs against what remains of my chest. “Fuck you for leaving me with this.”

My skin tears beneath her fingers. A strip comes away.

She screams. Drops it. Then laughs hysterically through tears. “Of course.”

Her shoulders shake. “Of fucking course you molt too.” She cries until there is nothing left. Until my body is no longer August.