Burn It All Down
I hid in the dark and watched my handiwork. I had been up for four days and could not sleep. I couldn’t eat and lived on Vitality water. She was gone and I was still here. So it was only fitting that I made a pyre out of my regrets and longings. Burning The Midnite Oil down was a cliché too delicious to forgo. I had to do it. Why? She was gone, that’s all. So it had to go. My club. My beautiful, horrible club, burning to the ground, drowning under the water from the firefighter’s hoses. My night manager, Cliff, made a statement to the press. With a look of shock across his smug goateed face. His piercings glittering in the glare of camera lights. Haha, Cliff. I hope you are struck with insomnia, you prick. I yawned as I watched the spectacle die down.
That night I had the best sleep of my life.
(I got the idea for this from a prompt on the Writers Digest page).
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