Darla had always avoided passing the terrarium.
She vividly recalled how Bryce’s Diamondback had rattled its tail
her first time over—
how it had lunged.
“You’re safe,”
Bryce had said
as the venom slid down the glass.
The snake’s cold eyes said otherwise:
I will get you one day.
One day Darla awoke to Bryce scouring
for his escaped pet.
He never found it.
Years and several moves later,
Darla still hears the rattle.
She hears it now,
as Bryce slides the wedding ring on her finger.
Rattle. Rattle. Rattle.
