The Rusted Nail

His stooped frame strains & pops with effort as he shuffles towards the wood-stove.

She’d be here soon.

“….well now, there’s the fifth log there, down from ten, five left, day is half-swallowed, month is just shit….look at us…” He muttered and rambled on thick, cracked lips, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth.

The sound of him sucking snot from clogged airways filled the room with grey.
“just look at it all, what a waste, what an ugly mess it is. She’s coming. She has to be coming, she wouldn’t give up, she never did, there’s no way that BITCH wouldn’t come back”

The word ‘bitch’ shoved from his mouth like a rusted nail….sharp, but useless & ineffective. He turns back to his dusty rat’s corner…a threadbare pink lump of a chair mimics the man’s body in its structural failure.

nail-943787_960_720Once again, as always, he falls into it like a soldier falling into death’s oblivion.

She’d be here soon.

The Rusted Nail

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