Watching the girl clean was bringing back memories. And looking out over the water didn’t help. It sent her mind back as well. So instead of fighting it, she let the past flood her senses. Tasting the anger and resentment just as she had all those years ago.
Angry that she had been forced to cycle up the hill every day and park her ancient bike next to two barely driven Mercedes. Resentful that the big house had breezes and sea views and fully stocked kitchen when her home had none of that.
But that anger and resentment had fueled her desire. And that desire had worked like magic on the old man. And he was finally gone. Probate had been a bit hairy. But the daughter had finally been convinced that the will was air-tight. The house and the cars and the breeze and the view belonged to her now. Well, to her and her boy.
And now she could smell desire wafting off that girl. She had worked too hard to get here. She was not about to share what was hers with some whore from down the hill. The girl would have to go. One way or another.
Inspiration for this 200 word piece of Flash Fiction provided by the following:
Photo Credit: Anurag Bakhshi courtesy of Sunday Photo Fiction