Protection
‘A little help here? I can’t tell which parts of me aren’t blue.’ My hands are, my arms, most of my legs. My face is red and yellow, even to the insides of my ears. I stand in the white light and cover my hands from the bowl of inky food coloring before me, running them up my chest to my throat, rivulets of indigo curling around my breasts. Quiet the way you are, your hands reaching around me to dip into the bowl. I watch, half fascinated by your palms turning blue, half distracted by your...