Fanficflashfic week 8

My hands shake as I take a drag from the cigarette I shouldn't be smoking, grey mist floating from the amber glow end. The silk of my dress had felt feminine, just how you like me to look – but now it chafes my skin like burlap, the coarse threads rubbing until I peel. I feel exposed even in the black of night, as though everyone can see the mascara running in rivulets over my cheeks and pooling around my too-soft jaw.

I'm the scorned-woman stereotype, red eyes and a broken heart, but I won't stay this way for long. Our life together is over, and I almost smile as I think of not having to live up to your impossible standards any longer. I kick off the heels I've never liked and untwist my hair from the style I've forgotten the name of. I wipe the dark tracts from my face as best I can and take one last pull of my smoke before I flick it away. I stand, slide off the wedding ring that means nothing now and let my upset blacken into anger.

God is merciful to those who repent, but I sure as hell won't be.

Thank you for reading.