Genuflected

"Goddamnit, Shera! You could have fuckin' died," his hoarse voice rasps. Is he angry because he was concerned, or because he's lost his shot at a dream?

Shera bows her head. The kettle's boiling whistle is her reply—harsh, shrill, louder than she'll ever be.

"Goddamnit, Shera, get the man some lard."

She gets the oily fat man some lard, mixes it in with his tea instead of cream.

"Goddamnit, Shera, say you'll marry me."

She sits outside in the twilight, watches the sun set over where his rocket used to be, and wonders if he'll change her name back.