Dirty Stick

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Walking in the middle of the road, she sticks her forefinger in her mouth before taking it out and holding it in the air. She saw someone do it on TV once. Something to do with telling which way the wind’s blowing. Town’s still many miles away and she hasn’t seen another living soul since she set off from the cemetery hours before. The idea of catching a lift had been a hopeful one, but now she’s resigned to making it back on her own. There’s no rush of course, but she’s getting hungry, and with the rising sun climbing higher every minute, she can feel that temper of hers simmering just beneath the surface. Kicking a stone along the asphalt that’s crumbling at the edges and melting from the heat of these endless summer days, she eyes up the sea of trees that surround in all directions. It’s a downhill trip, and from where she’s at, she observes pretty much everything. Is it ten or twenty miles into the distance the human eye can see? The question won’t let go, so she digs into her pocket for her phone to Google the answer. No luck, though. Thing’s out of juice. She’s just about to throw a paddy when she finds a flattened cigarette she’d forgotten about. Taking it in hand and squeezing it back into shape, she smiles when she finds the lighter she keeps hidden in her bra. Lighting up, she sucks in a lungful of smoke and holds it there for several seconds. Standing still, she feels her eyelids grow heavy, and when she goes to take a step forward, she promptly loses her balance and falls backwards onto her bum. Lying there in a heap, she goes to cuss but bursts out laughing instead. The palms of her hands are grazed by trying to break her fall. They sting and pinch something rotten, but after picking out the bits of gravel sticking into them, the pain’s soon forgotten. Taking the cigarette from her mouth, she blows smoke into the sky and decides to finish it where she is. It would be just her luck if a car came along now, but what the hell. Let it come. Hitching up her skirt, she purrs as the sun shines upon her legs while taking another hit on her dirty stick.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

9 replies »

  1. “Hitching up her skirt, she purrs as the sun shines upon her legs while taking another hit on her dirty stick.” Loved this. It reminded me of me. How I miss smoking, especially in the summer.

    Funny coincidence too…we both have posts this week re. wetting the finger wind gauge. Haha x Great minds ‘n’ all that.

      • Yeah, you see…that’s what I SHOULD do. I do love this weather. It was 32 degrees here yesterday, but I was working. Haha x

      • I don’t like a boiling hot bath at the best of times, but I’ve been drinking copious cups of tea. Don’t find it refreshing, despite the old wives saying it’s so. 😊

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