The Body

The body arrives at nine o'clock in the evening, and the neighbors didn't seem to rustle your curtains. John Patrick Henry sighs, soft, the music of cicadas and tires from a warm, wet pavement. “You need help inside?” the courier asked, and John Patrick Henry looks at the guy and said that his face unnaturally emotionless. He must know what is inside the box. He should know that no her and she, naked, meat, perhaps even swaying from traffic, from trucks to the door. John Patrick Henry swallows. “No,” he says to the courier. “Sign here,” the courier said, still impassive, and John Patrick Henry signs signs from signs Jonathan Patrick Henry, and the lines to swing from his shaking fingers. He leaves the pen in the clipboard to save to a courier to see him tremble. “Goodnight,” John Patrick Henry said, and the courier looks at long wooden slats box delivery, and looks to John, and seems to be M...