One Hundred Years of Solitude

fingers searching across his
stomach like warm and
anxious little caterpillars.
Pretending to sleep, he
changed his position to make
it easier, and then he felt the
hand without the black
bandage diving like a blind
shellfish into the algae of his
anxiety. Although they
seemed to ignore what both
of them knew and what each
one knew that the other knew,
from that night on they were