Renee walks to a window looking out on tall mountains. Impossible to see through the thick fog of snow. Everything, the depressing color of whiteness. Even the walls. This is, “the happiest day of her life.” She stares at her hands, burning tissue under the ring. She rubs the diamond into the base of her finger. Riding in the car with Diane, parking by the reservoir, shot-gunning weed, mouth to mouth, finishing each breath with the pressing suction of a kiss. Diane’s teeth, crooked, darkened imperfection. She remembers those teeth. On her body, sliding from neck to stomach, to the place her fiancée tells her is sickening to look at. Her own deformity a perfect match, flesh gliding between incisors. She continues to push the diamond into her hand, thinking eventually it will break through. She laughs. There is not the slightest hint of a cut. Her hand lifted, two fingers curled into palm, two pointing towards the newly flashing sun. Her diamond glares.
