Stories

And so she lit a cigarette…. simply because she knew how this story ends. She once again found herself contemplating what it is they possess that she did not. In the long, exhaled third drag of the death between her fingers, she finally found it.

Timing.

Her life had been a series of mistimed adventures.

She saved a turtle and ran late. The radio played a lovely little remix.

A moment more of those hands around her neck and darkness would have been earned.

A different path and a love always wished for not lost.

A long last drag. She knew how this story ends. The way all her stories end.

Alone.