Minty



I took in the air she expelled. She in turn breathed me in. I sustained her and she me. Everything that breathes contributes, but I like her breath the most. it is kept fresh by packets of spearmint gum tucked away in her breast pocket, next to her phone. The bite of mint makes her breath colder than it really is. This suits me fine, as I am from the north. It is more than fine--it is intoxicating. Every time she inhales, I kiss her on the lips and take in her minty exhaust. Sometimes it has the spicy tang of pickles, the diluted sour of lemonade, the sweetness of cola.

One day I take too much. The exhaust I receive, but I inhale too strongly, seizing the air in her lungs, taking back what I had already given. Having taken the first bite I can't stop myself. I curl around her like a boa. She chokes and claws in front of her, but her swipes pass straight through me. In my arms she grows still, limp. I pull pack.

She's not breathing. I blow across her nose, try going through the mouth. She doesn't take me in. I flee toward the sky. I find another person with minty breath and I know soon I will become greedy again.