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Smoked Flesh

 

The cracked-ass sofa moaned under Ray’s weight. His big frame slouched into the shadows, only the flicker of his lighter and the shine off his fake-gold chain giving him away.

 

Across from him, the dog sat stone still—muscles taut, eyes cold.

 

Behind him was Vee.

 

She moved like she knew the price of trouble and how to light a flame without getting burned. She bent over, her lips close enough to taste but not to touch, lighting his blunt with a smooth flick of her lighter. Her fingers brushed his jaw—the same jaw she used to bite at in the dark.

 

“You look just like your pops,” she murmured.

 

Ray cracked a crooked smile.

“That supposed to be a diss or some kinda curse?”

 

She stepped around the couch and stood in front of him, letting the busted lamp’s glow catch the slick curve of her hips and the shine in her hair.

 

“Just sayin’. He had the same way of burying that fury behind silence. Same kind of mutt. Same need to run shit his way.”

 

Ray took a long pull, blowing smoke out slow.

“And you, Vee… still pokin’ around in dead folks’ business? Or you here to get your share?”

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Uploaded on June 3, 2025