The Lighter
She watches the blue at the root of the flame.
She watches the blue at the root of the flame.
The room is cold. A hospital cold that lives in the walls.
Forever now. Somehow that made it matter less.
Mirror. Signal. Breathe.
Vanilla musk. She never changes.
“Why are you late?”
‘Tonight will be perfect’, she thought, snipping an errant shoot and placing the bonsai tree on the table’s centre.
Lucy trembled…
Two guys walk into a bar; the third one ducks.
“I’d love to, babe, but my phone’s just about out of juice!
The white line on the highway blurred and steadied.