Dead Houses Study: VII:
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she stood in the front yard, ground out her cigarette underfoot and spit at the house, 'Fucker...' bitterly. snow had crept into her running shoes, icy grains of frozen sand. all she could do was stare at the empty hulk. forgiving and forgetting might lay in the future, now, she was just acid. he'd come into her life with the usual bouquets and compliments, he'd left with anger and accusations. 'Bastard... Fucking Bastard...' she walked up to the front door, no farther. 'if i had some gas i'd fucking burn you out again, you prick.' she lit another cigarette and with a fluid motion threw the match into the entrance. it guttered out, 'Figures.'. she smoked her cigarette and twilight fell, she flicked the butt hopefully into the house and turned away. she crossed the highway and stuck out her thumb. the white panel van slowed, stopped and popped its side door. she was in and off into the night in an instant.