Bewitched

"Turn me on, dead man."

I spun on my heel, tried to anyway, are my joints always going to feel like this? but lost my balance and stumbled. Bent at the waist, hands on the ground, I felt like a marionette gone slack. I straightened back up and looked in the direction of the giggling, but all I could see was a silhouette surrounded by a corona.

"I've always wanted to say that."

Marta. Witch.

Janet and I had a rough patch back in April and took a breather. I met Marta one night after a soccer match. I figured she was with one of the Dominicans on the team, but as the night wore on and the beer kept coming, they trickled out until there was just me and Marta.

She was acne-scarred and the sweats she wore didn't hide her body as much as she thought, but her eyes shimmered. Rich chocolate suffused with a deep violet glow. I couldn't break my gaze. Which was how we ended up back at her place, naked before the door latched.

The next morning I realized what I'd done and ducked out without a sound. I begged Janet to take me back that night and quit the soccer team. I didn't want to see the witch again. But I did.

"I've been looking for you, papi."

Previously in "I, Zombie"