- Vol. 05
- Chapter 08
The melting point of gold is 1064°C. It peels her flesh like the stovetop did, or her mother’s clothing iron; viscid like resin against her skin and hotter than molten rock. Too stern-tongued to liquefy so she lets the burns go septic until the flood distorts her features, melts her into a stream of ash, slipping down the drain–
The boiling point of gold is 2807°C. She once thought she’d end up dressed in uranium; she would erupt in an inferno, cloud the stratosphere with smoke, a spectacle whose name is etched on history. But gold has mastered the art of coercion and now she is intimate with vanishing.