Smoke hung thick in the air. A rancid cloud which swirled like a menacing snake. It stung the eyes, burned the nose, irritated the throat, and all she could think of was how she was going to get out.

Out into the clean evening air which she knew was just on the other side of darkened glass and stained plaster walls. 

She cast an annoyed glance at the man who sat, cast in shadows and smoke, in an overstuffed chair in the middle of an otherwise bare room. The sweat slicked skin of his pudgy, play dough face and triple chins reflected a sickly red-yellow glow with every breath. She knew his eyes, nothing but black pits on either side of a flat, too often broke nose, were studying her with malicious intent, his flabby lips slowly spreading into a greasy smile.

“Those things are going to kill you,” she said, not for the first time, nor she knew, the last.

“Everything dies,” came the usual reply. “It’s a matter of when, not if.”

She shook her head as she headed for the door. She knew it was a lost cause. Always had been.

“Ok, dad, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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2 thoughts on “The Visit (Flash Fiction)

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