9 December 2010
[Paoulo and Francesca, Inferno]
I slipped on unseen ice a week ago and no eyes blinked. It was my tailbone that bore the brunt. But once dusted off, the shock moved up without me knowing. Tailbone to breastbone and a week of dull ache and old-woman moans. Sneezes are the worst, but the saddest thing is that it hurts to laugh. And not like when I used to get exquisite shooting pains in my shoulder when I giggled too damn much with best friends in boy-postered bedrooms.
Gianciotto pierced Francesca's bosom with a rapier, spearing both her and Paulo, flesh close to flesh, splintered bone.
I think I'm Francesca.