cops, Crime, flash fiction, Johnny Law, Jose Cuervo, living in squalor, police, Promethean Short Short Stories, Single Wide trailers, trailer parks, trailer trash
Heather sat outside on a chaise in deep sweating darkness, keeping company with her old friend Jose Cuervo. Occasionally she slapped at the mosquitoes orbiting her thighs, which shone from under cutoff Levis like marble in the moonlight.
Travis couldn’t meet her eyes when he finally returned home reeking of engine oil and bad business.
Not long after, she saw lights in the distance, watching them grow for a long time before the police cruiser arrived, wishing all her troubles could be so overt and so slow in coming.
Red and blue strobes lent the trailer a beauty she didn’t understand except that it reminded her of Christmas.
Her heart broke a little watching them recede.
Bravo! I loved it.
The smell of bad business intrigues me.
Really? Me too!!!
It’s like the smell of rich, Corinthian leather in the old Chryslers–once you smell it, you can’t get it out of your head.
This one is really really good, Smakola!
Thanks a lot! We don’t get many comments on these, and I sure appreciate it.