Fog - Flash Fiction

    Wraiths of fog are set ablaze by the glare of the corner street lamp. Water, condensed to droplets on the maple leaves above my head, falls like rain and trickles down the back of my neck. Or, is it the cold fingers of dread dancing up and down my spine? I glance at my watch. 2:47 a.m..
    Guilt tortures my racing mind with questions, all unanswerable. Why did she do it– the one I loved with my life? Am I not man enough for her? And why with him, whom I called brother?
    They will be found, but never again together. I had to hide my transgression. I'm free of her perfidy. No one need know of his betrayal, nor of my shame. The stains of my sin cry out from the carpet. I can't go back.
    The cold iron bus stop bench where I sit amplifies the chill of the fog-shrouded night air. The patter of constantly dripping water mixes with the hammering of my heart. Both sounds increase in my ears until the cacophony drives out the myriad questions tormenting my mind. Only one thing left for me to do to complete this forfeiture of sanity.
    I feel the rosewood grip in my hand; smooth, firm, voluptuous, sensual; her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. The cold steel barrel burns against my temple. Only the agony in my heart is more brutal. Never before have I considered this step. Never before have I needed to.
    The click-clicking of footsteps interrupt my accursed reverie. But the writhing tendrils of fog obscure the walker. Is it she? Has she returned from oblivion to haunt me? Fear clenches my throat. Will I never be free from her phantasma? I cannot continue this life with her memory haunting me. It's now, or never.