ESSAY

The End Of Innocence

On killing and being

Photo by Derek Liang on Unsplash

Seventy-three miles an hour, cruise control. An empty black highway, nothing more. I’m finally by myself on a New Mexican mountain road when I see you in the grayish lighting of the beams of the car that gives you the appearance of a dream or a bad-quality night photograph, Innocence. I see your eye absorbing the light. I see your antlers, and before I think…