by V.A. Vazquez
He sat on the secondhand couch in their mobile home, springs prodding into his lower back. Flipping the tab on another can of Bud Light, he watched the moths flutter around the trailer park. One of them, with wings the same colour as greasy pizza boxes, flew a little too close to the bug zapper and then…
It crumpled onto the patchy grass sprouting in front of their doorstep. As he listened to the radio next door playing música tejana, he flexed the broken wingstalks between his shoulder blades.
“Yeah, bud,” he said, toasting the fallen moth. “Me, too.”
V.A. Vazquez writes urban fantasy and dark romance. She currently lives in Glasgow, Scotland, with her husband and small doggo.