You Missed One – Belen Suros '22

I’ve been half-dead for four days. The buzzards have definitely noticed. In my opinion, watching my body decay is unfortunate enough without having to fight off scavengers. The worst part? I know they can see me. I can see it in their beady little eyes, locked with mine as they tear into the body that was— is—was mine. You’d think we’d reach some sort of agreement, from the living to the formerly, that it’s rude to eat someone who can still see you. Apparently not. There’s not much left to protect. I can frighten the buzzards, but there’s nothing to be done about the beetles that burrow; the ants that steal; the dampness that drags at my skin. I hope Death comes for me soon. I don’t know what’s taking so long—it’s not like it has any doctor's appointments or pool parties to attend to...not as a participant, at least. The body that was mine doesn’t look like me anymore. Flesh should not bow like that; skin should not split like that. I can see bone now. I couldn’t, yesterday. What do I do when there’s nothing left? I don’t know where Death is. It’s been four days and counting.

Art by Belen Suros '22