Red smudges my vision, breaks my concentration. I follow its path from corner of lip to soft edge of jaw to the shadow beneath the shirt collar. Involuntarily I touch my face, as if my fingers can feel red smudges. Territory marked, I lose myself momentarily in the flash of dark on light, pink on brown. I glance around our bedroom. Of course no one is here. Only I am looking. Involuntarily I touch the back of my neck, as if judges will yank me by the collar, collar me, throw me in jail for the crime of red smudges.
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