Ashen Sky

By Pavel Hickman

The evening sky remained murky gray as Cappelletti headed for the meeting. “Do you think the weather is…a bad omen?”

“The superstitious never make it through drive-ed,” replied his chauffeur. “No wood in limousines these days. To knock on.” His hopeful smile lingered.

“Hmm.” The car hit a bump in the road, jerking the cigarette from Cappelletti’s lips. He caught the falling poison between his fingers.

“That was close,” the chauffeur murmured, glancing in the rear-view mirror. “Speaking of which, we’re almost there.”

“Fine.”

“Happy to help, Cap.”

Cap tensed, and ground out his cigarette. “Open a window, will ya?”