the bare lightbulb

i pushed my thumb into the stranger's cheek. i pressed down hard, packing the concealer in. smoothing over the cold, sunken skin. he didn't complain. i peeled off the sweaty rubber gloves. dropped them in the trash. clocked out and drove back to my rented room. i scrubbed my hands with cheap soap. the formaldehyde never washes off. it stays trapped deep under the cuticles. i opened a can of beer. brought it to my mouth. smelled the dead guy on my own fingers. a moth kept hitting the bare lightbulb.