Resting on the headstone the woman waited at twilight, a glow from her cigarette the only light. The smoke a listless swirl joins the clouds. As darkness falls, the difference is indiscernible. Finally, the gate creaks, her husband strolls; flowers for his grave.

“I knew it, you bastard!”

She raises her shovel, crushes his head and buries him in the plot marked as his final resting place. You can’t kill a dead man.

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame. This week’s word is listless. The word limit is 75 words. This one comes in at 74.