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My latest in the Micro Bookends weekly flash contest wherein they provide the first (rating) and last (system) words for a piece no longer than 110 words and in response to the above photo.

Rating my contribution to the downfall of our coupling would be like sharpening the razor leering at my wrist. Of course I was to blame.

Indeed, the razor salivated above my wrist, adding the salt before the wound before it perforated me, as I had her.

It was the rocks, man. I lusted after them like I was pawing at a continually inclining treadmill. Never enough, never enough until it was enough never’s for her.

No note. No text. No voicemail. No parting, lingering kiss. No memory.

Just my rocks, my three-day old vomit congealed at the corner of my crusted lips and that razor to bring down my system.

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