A strange tinkering sound on the roof lit up the sky with shadows. He went out outside to look at it, holding a brown hammer in his hand. It started raining. I was afraid. The tinkerer did not hold up her puppets because she wasn’t there. It was only him. I sat in his armchair, waiting. The rain was slow but it was brittle, and the waves trembled under the shadows. I was glad I was inside. I knew his hammer would rust in the rain.
The rain that poured could have been anything. It could have been his green appetite, or his blue gentleness. But it was mine, I knew it was mine. The shadows signalled to each other with twinkling lights in the sky. He mistook them for stars. I did not. I knew they were like traffic, there and then gone.
Then the sky cleared into a bright yellow. The shadows drifted to the right, and the moon smiled at me. I looked away. On the window across the room, the last of his purple divinity rolled down. Splashed onto the bottom of my heart. Something pink from my eyes. I knew he was, and I let him die.