Audited in Smoke


The city kept its treasury locked behind marble and lies. I kept mine in a dented coffee tin under the sink—loose change, bad decisions, and names needing forgetting. Funny thing about value: theirs needed guards; mine needed forgetting. When they finally audited me, I handed them silence. It accrued interest faster than truth ever did. Then I sent an invoice.



Discover more from Memoirs of Madness

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

One thought on “Audited in Smoke

Leave a reply to amorentreestrellas Cancel reply