Choice

This then was all that was left. Dex’s climb had been stratospheric. At thirty he’d been ready to fly. Too close to the sun. The crash hit hard. The auditors did their job for once. His bosses held him to account for the same things they once demanded of him. Everything solid turned to dust. Now this was all that was left. A torn matress, a dirty blanket, a transistor radio and a bunch of clothes. He kicked his belongings together into a corner, sucked his last cigarette almost to the filter then flicked the glowing butt into the pile. Black latex smoke started curling upwards. He glanced at the door. Now at least he had options. Freedom of choice. That’s what made the country great. Dex smiled. Smoke pooled beneath the ceiling. A lick of purple flame struck up among his t-shirts and jeans.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s