Back Seat

I tried to write some “flash fiction” on the train today while limiting myself to less than 200 words but still telling a tidbit of a story story. {alright, actual count 202}
I’m posting it but still not sure if I actually like it.
You be the judge.
At any rate, it did make me write.
And sorry, it doesn’t end well.
***************

Fingers of moonlight caressed the deserted roof parking lot as she hurried to her car, the clip-clop of her stiletto heels blending seamlessly with the hum of the city below.
She’d stayed late, perhaps too late; a vain attempt to alter her nightly routine.
He was mean and jealous these days and she had the cigarette burns and bruises
to prove it.
After he first saw her dance, he immediately called her over.

I want you, was all he said.
He always got what he wanted.

She fumbled with her keys, hands shaking and out of breath, the tip-off call to the police still fresh on her mind.
He would be looking for her soon . . .

Once inside the safety of her car she pushed the ‘lock‘ button and let out a brief sigh of relief.
Turning the key she heard the incessant whirr of an engine that would never start.

God damn it, she thought, what the fuck do I do now?

The last thing she heard was the metallic click of a Zippo lighter from the back seat.
And people on the street looked up . . . listening to the steady sound of some distant car horn.

~m