phantom-inker

    “What will you tell them?”
    Petra looked at me, her green eyes rigidly locked on mine.
    “I — I — don’t know.”
    I stood in the stale, empty bedroom, at a loss for words.  I had come here in search of her, to see her one last time before she left.  But I had not expected this.  I had not expected what she would be, standing in this room for the last time herself.  I had not expected to find standing in her bedroom a girl attached to the body of a brown horse, her possessions sold, her room bare, everything that I knew of the girl I’d dated gone, and in its place a centaur.
    She adjusted her blue-checkered button-down shirt, loosing the top two buttons.
    “This is not how I wanted it to end,” she said.
    “What — are you?” I said.
    “My people used