Once again, Karen let him put the mask over her face, tighter this time. Straight up proper too - over the nose and mouth, straps over the ears. Airtight. No one masked like Tony. No one. “Hit me,” she said, her voice mumbling its way through the sky blue fabric.
This feels comfortably adjacent to the splatterpunk kick I've been on lately. Just grimy. Well done!
I'm a fan of your writing style. Reminds me of Kristopher Triana.
I loved it. Like Nicholson Baker before he just lost the thread.