Hash

It was the same old arguments, Hash flirted with another woman again, and you saw her lipstick mark on his shirt, you saw him smile too wide at her, and you saw him ‘almost’ hide his wedding ring in the pocket again. Hash has been tolerating it, for a bit now, he’s been facing the window, staring down at the city, you guys were travelling in his company helicopter, it is silent except for you pained complaints, Hash keeps looking down, his teeth gritting, his one hand was gripping the arm rest of the luxurious seat of the cabin, until his hands got white. He had a stressful day today, agencies investigating into one of his ‘off shore’ brands, and that sad excuse of a press conference his shareholders forced him to attend…so what? He saw a pretty bitch in the evening party, what was so wrong about wanting to blow off some steam? He was going to make up for Gracie, later. "Do you even love me anymore hash?" you were close to breaking into tears in your glamorous red dress, and mascara already ruined (she cried earlier). Then he snaps, in a blur of moments, the cabin door swings open, and she was on the floor, his hand gripped her throat, Gracie feels the cold winds of the night blow on her face, for her moment his grip loosens, she turns her face to the ground…it’s a long long way down, the sound of the rotor was defeaning, he screams anyways. "I DONT KNOW IF I LOVE YOU ANYMORE, MAYBE I SHOULD LET YOU FALL AND SEE IF I FEEL ANYTHING AFTERWARDS!" he grips tightens, your seat belts was off, body on the cabin floor, head sticking out, he held you there with a constricting grip that made you go dizzy. But you feel his fingers tremble, and his face was twisted into a grin, eyes cold-dead inside.