All right you beautiful people: here’s a new (very) short story I just posted over on the Crusade. Go on and dig it.
but needed a long sit with some whiskey gingers to reduce the betrayal down to the why. He put down the fourth glass and thought: butterflies, that’s why. You get them when you’re standing in front of something of worth. He called Kate from the hotel and said that he did it because she didn’t make him feel butterflies anymore, but that this woman in Denver did. Reducing it down to “butterflies” was like wrapping the knife in pretty paper before he killed her. It sounded stupid when he said it but also knew she’d find it endearing. She liked his way with words.
“Butterflies, that’s a good way to say it,” said Kate. “That’s why I did it too.”