It was the last thing I added back to my mask. Dressing quickly to turn out my wings and fly head on into another bad choice, daunted by collapsed will. It always struck me how much I hated what I loved just an hour ago. I felt extinguished, two wet fingers had pinched my wick and I only smoldered a last bit of smoke, perhaps the final signal of my desire. Stiff blue jacket now in place, I discretely folded the brass buckle into my leather green belt covering all the shame I had let loose in my plunge. The last of the exchange complete I gave her a tip for the next visit and walked heavily home from the 24 hour diner.
inspired by the prompt ‘green belt’ at typetrigger.com