Fresh from a breakup, I run into The Devil on my way home from the grocery store. He slips an arm around my waist and leans in close. His breath smells of acid and brimstone, but hey. At least it doesn’t smell like another woman’s pussy. I pass him a mint as we make our way home.

Inspired by Jen Silverman’s “The Devil Dogs My Steps, But If It Weren’t Him, It Would Just Be Someone Else”