My parents had got back from the movies. He was waiting for them. He had no reason, just the feel of metal through skin.
The couch is stained with their blood.
They took the bodies away, but not the blood. This time they’ll catch him, they say. Sure.
I see the glint the detectives missed, see the knife under my father’s chair. I see the glistening blade, and pretend the dark on it is rust.