Spark

by Erin Noelle

  I gagged, dropped the computer and rushed to the bathroom.

  When I emerged thirty minutes later, throat raw from acid and tears burning my eyes, I calmly walked back to the laptop and cradled it carefully in my arms, before returning to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I tossed the computer in the bathtub. Robotically, I retrieved all the tech gear I could find of Asher’s, filling the tub with shades of silver, gray, chrome, and black. Walking down the hall to the closet that held our washer and dryer, I snatched a bottle of detergent and jug of bleach and returned to our bathroom. I drizzled the electronics with both liquids until the bottles were empty, and then turned the shower on high, leaving the curtain wide open.

  Packing my stuff haphazardly into whatever luggage and duffle bags I could find, I made four trips to my red Wrangler before I just couldn’t stand to be in that loft we’d shared any longer. Making one last trip to our bedroom, I dug out that shiny piece of coal from under Asshole’s trouser socks and tossed it on the middle of the bed.

  Just so he would know I knew exactly what I was walking away from.

  As I peeled off down the road, automatically heading south toward the Carolina coast, I had one last fleeting thought. There was nothing left in that loft I would miss.

  Except those sheets. Bastard owed me a set of sheets.

  Coming soon!