Robe Red and Cigarette Still Lit

Memory 015

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“Divorce.”

He pulled her face to his before clamping her red lips with his thick ones. A minute's worth of breathy kiss attempted to connect their consciousness. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not anytime soon. Election is around the corner.” He broke from contact.

She left the bed, put on a white robe, and smoked a cigarette by the window, hoping the sight of the sea devouring the sun would assuage her worries. “I don't—”

A knife straight to her heart cancelled her expression. She dropped to the floor, robe red and cigarette still lit. Then he made a phone call.