Nov 18, 2025
Trevor flicked the lighter, took a drag, and stepped out into the cool, blue night - a couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt; he’d air out. He turned the Zippo that Duane had given him between his fingers until he felt a thin scratch under his thumb. He leaned closer - at first, nothing: too dark, and the engraving was rough. But after a moment, the inscription surfaced. Isabella… He’d have to ask.
Trevor inhaled, tapped off the ash.
***
“Duane, who’s Isabella?” he asked, as if casually.
Duane fell silent, then replied, “My wife.”