Rock. Sand. Sun.
Perfect place for a Tracer to burn.
His quarry had tainted him with her hopelessness. Freaking vulnerability. He hated this part.
Fewer emotion-lines floated in the air here. Lighting his cigarette, he eyed them. Regret burned the brightest.
When the ashes glowed red-hot, he pushed the end into the dark blue line. The ember lit like a ghostly fuse. It burned around him, a thin snake coiling around its prey. He watched it climb. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the heat that touched his forehead.
Death bundled him up and took him from all the failures and regret he’d carried on his now-abandoned body.