- Polite Fictions

The sky in front of him was brilliant and blue and so damn bright that he could see his reflection in it. He had never known that was possible.

Slick stood in a puddle of his own pending demise - blood and urine and something that resembled a tooth. When had that come out? The red of his shoulder looked black against the blueness.

"Get in the back, dickwad. The seats are pleather."

Then the sky was gone. It had slid open to reveal the inside of a van and a sunlit Doug looking disgusted.

Slick got in the van and sat on the floor.

"You smell like piss and candy," Doug said. "You and Euri were made for each other."

The train station was a block away.

************************************

The air in front of her was dark and thick and swirled with smoke.

Charlie stood there in the stale, canned twilight and let her eyes adjust. Nobody got any prettier.

The top of the bar was as empty as the last time she danced upon it. She bet the register was even more so. The only Cash this place knew was on the jukebox. He was singing there now.

The taste of love is sweet
When hearts like ours meet
I fell for you like a child
Oh, but the fire went wild...

The woman buried in a bottle and a newspaper looked up from the bar. Her mouth puckered tightly around an inch of surprisingly sturdy ash as she pulled another cigarette from the pack.

Charlie took a confident breath and a shaky step towards the lone stool across from the smoker.

"Hello, Mom," she whispered. Somewhere in the distance a pin dropped.

And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire.

Her mother smiled. The ash was perfect.