Frog Colony

by Trent England

Before he went downstairs, before he went downstairs to fight, I remember my brother sticking the tape in the player, the tape that played the piano music. This was before he would go downstairs and get himself killed, almost to the brink of blacking out. Before this, though, he would listen to the piano on the tape, and he would put in his contacts.

I thought it was out of place—that it was effeminate—the way he put his contacts in before he went downstairs. Blinking and rubbing his fingers over his eyes, the solution he soaked the two hard contacts in dribbled down his face like tears.

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