Fuel

Flash fiction. For more of my writing, go to andrewhenleywriting.wordpress.com

She lit his cigarette. That was how it started. Red smoky kisses and shouting in ears. Then boredom and two shades. She packed her suitcase and left the crib.

 

Screams and tears drowning in flames. Floorboards and doorframes made jailbars. He lit a cigarette. That was how it started. His wet shining eyes waded through the smoke to the blackened vodka bottle. The fuel.