From the rightmost corner of the bottom on the edge, emerged the pungent grey smoke. A pale blue flame engulfs the photograph. There’s oxygen in the air, disgust on my mind and pain in this life. It burns. Like the photograph.
I set my cigarette on fire. It burns through my lungs as I take a long drag; our memories are exhaled out in the smoke. The half burnt photograph floats in the water waiting to be flushed.
I see your face in it. Goodbye.
Oh yeah! on the brighter side, I’m still holding a butt. (Wink wink)