Flick
He looks at the flame on top of the metal box in his fingers that glowers against his eyes like the ambers of her earrings. In between his lips as a role of paper that holds the sand of his daily hourglass.
Flick
She, too, looks at the flame on top of the metal box he holds. In between her lips was an hourglass like his, but a bit shorter now.
Same sticks, different lengths. Time slows down as the burning of the flames start to take their time away.
Flick
Now the lights flicker in their apartment as they danced violently like untamed flames in a forest fire; where the beauty of it's danger is too dangerous to touch as they screamed and shout for the other to stop the hourglass before the embers die out.
Flick
Now there's a spark coming from the outlet where he left his vape to charge next to hers. Smoke starts to emerge and the two are still dancing in their own fire, too busy to notice that there has been a separate hourglass added within the wires.
Flick
They noticed the smoke too late as the lamp next to their couch has caught in flames. She screamed and tried to douse it out, but it only made it worse when the lamp started to spark and then burst into flames.
Flick
He tries to keep her calm, but he can't calm himself as the fire caught up on his magazines and on the newspaper where the cat takes a shit.
Flick
He misses a beat and the smoke in his lungs made him feel heavy. His packets started to burn too.
Flick
She looks for her inhaler, for air, for something to breathe in; but she couldn't find the freedom she has been longing to see as they shouted out for help.
Flick
He instantly regrets lighting up those cigarettes.
Flick
She instantly regrets lighting up those cigarettes.
Flick
They regret picking up those cigarettes now that they were starting to burn away with lungs filled with black smoke and mouths that smelled of tobacco.
Flick
Their time is up. The smoke has filled a lung and made it gray.
Flick
The flames burn away as the decision has been made.
Flick
Their cigarette has finally burned away.
