By Jessica Baker
Smoking cigarettes was not a good idea. She knew that but occasionally wanted to take the knife from life’s hands and plunge it into her own skin. Today, she needed to laugh at death. To believe she couldn’t be held responsible for trading shifts, for the subsequent accident, for what it had done to her friend. With each inhale, she tried to own her life again, afraid of this sudden reminder of powerlessness.
As she ashed, she thought daringly of having two. That would show death who the boss is. But she didn’t. Life still had its hands around her neck.
Nice and dark…great job!
Love that last line and how it parallels the death motif!
I really like “With each inhale, she tried to own her life again” – well done.