I sit on the porch, watching your dust settle.
It was all a lie. A performance. Years of attention and validation that you required of me blow away, meaningless as the dust your truck tires kicked up.
A little pushback, and I’m dead to you.
You taught me a lesson. I’ve now eaten from the poisoned apple of narcissism, one I accepted too gladly. God damn your charm. And God help the next who tries to make me his supply.
The dust has already returned to the earth, your impact forgotten.
Now it’s my turn to do the same.
This story is inspired by the prompt over at Carrot Ranch: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a poisoned apple.
I took the angle I did because for my current work in progress, I’ve had to study the guts of narcissism (specifically in romantic relationships), which has been both enlightening and frightening. I’d say likening narcissism to a poisonous fruit is apt.