They say it takes four minutes to boil an egg. I say that’s a lie.
I’ve been timing things since I was ten—the year I learned how long it takes for something to stop moving after it’s supposed to be dead. The first was a squirrel. It twitched for forty-three seconds. I wrote it down. You’d be surprised how long forty-three seconds can stretch.
People talk about motive. Childhood trauma. Wiring. I think they just don’t like silence—the kind that comes when a thing simply is. Like bleach under your fingernails. Like the drag of fingernails in your palm when someone grabs your hand too hard, before they realize you’re not going to scream.
There’s a rhythm to this. A private tempo. Patterns only I seem to hear. That’s how I picked Michael. Same bus stop. Same time. Every day. Always picked his teeth with the corner of his bus pass. Twelve days I watched him. The thirteenth was a Friday.
He asked if I was lost. I said yes. It felt true. He walked me behind the diner like he’d done it before. Like he thought he was the one in control. He never saw the bone saw. People rarely do. They see what they want to see.
This isn’t about pain. Or rage. It’s about control. Michael lasted seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds. That’s longer than the others. Longer than the egg.
They never scream as much as you’d think. Maybe they’re saving it. Like the final breath matters. I collect those sounds. I file them alphabetically. Michael’s scream reminded me of someone sucking a noodle too fast—sharp, sudden, and cut off.
I left him in pieces. Not for shock. For symmetry. An arm in each corner of the square. His shoes together under the dumpster. I’m not a monster. Shoes deserve to stay together.
You’re wondering why I’m telling you this. You think I’m going to confess. Or cry.
But I’m only talking because I like the look in your eyes. That flickering fire people get when they think they’re safe—just before the brain catches up with what the ears already heard.
Three minutes, forty-seven seconds. That’s how long you’ve been listening.
Boiling now.