Closer

"It's happening again. It's happening again."
He sucked at his thumbnail, violent, wrists hot, until the taste of his own blood could no longer pacify. Eyes shut like banana peels against the last November light offered by the stained-glass windows.
"Please don't. Please, please don't."
He recalled his last trip with her. They hiked the same pebbled shores he could've found here. Except those cliffs. Cliffs like dirty teeth. The teeth were what he remembered.
"Please don't get sidetracked."
In fact, he remembered the stained glass, too. Lavender in parts, like a blanket. It suited him too well to be blanketed in those regal purples, pores filled with plum guts, eyelashes dripping, and he felt closer to beautiful. He picked a rogue seed from between his teeth. Fig jam. Any day now, right?