The Sound of Thunder Heard Remote

“It’s ending,” she said, stretching her hands to the sky, arching her back. One last look before everything went to hell.

He watched, unashamed. “Everything always is.”

“Not anymore. Not after this. Not for me.”

Their legs dangled over the edge of the roof. She kicked her feet, lost a sandal. “Huh,” she said as it tumbled down. “I liked that pair.”

She kicked off the other one, wiggled her toes.

He ran a finger down her cheek. “What will you do?”

One shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. She eyed the bottle between them, separating them, wanting a drink more than the distance. She lifted it, took a swig. The wine tasted thick and bitter, like blood and ashes.

The glass barrier removed, he stayed put. It shouldn’t have made her sad.

“I loved you once,” she said. “You were my favorite.” It was an accusation.

“I know.”

Not that it mattered anymore.

“It’s all yours now. Your turn to play god.” She stood. The concrete warmed her feet. “My turn to fall.”

She stepped back, plummeted.

Lucifer rose.

View this story's 1 comments.