The moon is bright tonight as I clean the knife in my hands. It glows with an almost eerie light that reflects off of the silver metal of its blade.
She watches me from the corner with her unmoving face; her red eyes blank with expression and her resin face affixed with a small grin. Her long, black hair glistened in the moonlight as she sat there, covered in a blanket I gave her last winter. She grips it tightly with her fabric-clad hands, staring at me with her red eyes; waiting for me to finish.
As the knife slinks back into its storage, I glance back at her; her eyes still affixed on me as her face remained unchanged; her permanent grin covered by the blanket she held.
Once again, I look at the moon; its beautiful design reflecting its light into the window, and to many others surrounding us. I felt her fabric arm tug my flesh, beckoning me to the corner where we sleep. But was I truly tired, or did I just long for her embrace?
We sat in the corner; she picked up a pillow