Dear John

I couldn’t help the way I looked at him, with nothingness.  His one leg sprawled off the side of the bed, a blotchy red birthmark exposed on his inner thigh.  A beast with his boxers bunched up his a*s.  I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail.  I buttoned up my sheer white blouse.  I put back on my pencil skirt and my four inch heels.  I sat on the side of the bed for a long time.  I sat frozen staring at him, disgusted with him, disgusted with myself.  The flame from the lighter illuminated my face while I lit my Marlboro light.  I inhaled deeply and let the smoke travel into me eroding my lungs.  I exhaled blowing smoke across his back.  Inhale black, exhale black, inhale black, exhale black.  I put the cigarette out on his calf; he didn’t move a muscle, so completely unconscious from the bottle of Jack Daniels he had consumed.  I stood up, adjusting my skirt and reaching for my purse.  A beam of light shone in from the window landing across his back.  The center of that line is where I stabbed him.  I take my hundred dollars from the night stand and leave. Good night John.

Reviews

[CLUTZ]

Well now, that was unexpected. But I liked the twist. Very nice