by Bart Van Goethem

He needed to calm down, but he didn’t smoke. So he stood on the garden terrace holding an imaginary cigarette in his hand.

His eyes focused on the V formed by his index and his long finger. He moved it close to his pouting lips and drew a breath. He exhaled. After about five minutes, he assumed the cigarette was finished. He dropped the imaginary stub and crushed it under the heel of his shoe.
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The trembling hadn’t subsided.

Maybe I should have another one, he thought.

He looked around and then up. The bluish-black sky glittered with stars. It was such a wonderful evening to lose your mind.

Bart Van Goethem. Father. Copywriter. Drummer. Facetious if necessary. National Flash Fiction Day Anthology 2013 & 2015. Follow him @bartvangoethem.