The Last Flame - Part Four

In The Neighborhood

Veronica Dahl sat at her kitchen table staring at a lighter she absolutely hated, which made no damn sense because the lighter had done nothing wrong. It was expensive, beautiful, and exactly the kind of thing someone like Cassandra Voss would think belonged in Veronica’s hand. It worked every single time without hesitation. One flick produced one perfect flame without any fight, history, or painful memories attached to it. That was exactly why Veronica hated the damn thing.

The old gold Zippo had been unreliable from the first day she owned it. Sometimes it took two or three tries before the flame appeared, and sometimes the stubborn piece of junk refused to work at all. It was scratched, dented, and looked like it had survived too many bad choices. Veronica always thought that made sense because everyone who had ever owned the lighter could probably say the same thing about themselves.

She reached for a cigarette and stopped when she remembered which lighter was sitting on the table.

“Son of a bitch.”