Steel dragons. As dead as the relationship that I called marriage. As cold as the man I called husband.
Everything unwanted should be recycled, he always said. So everyday, every moment, I strived for perfection. Always afraid that if I let up for even a moment, then I would be unwanted, discarded. Just someone to be recycled.
Reused. Refused. Recycled.
The security tapes and backup have been deleted. I always told him not to use birthdays as passwords. The man was too arrogant to listen. He never did understand technology. Never understood that the cameras recording the employee movements, recorded his movements too. Never understood the concept of remote monitoring.
In the forge, the furnace simmers leaving no evidence of its greed and rage. No bones. No ashes. No evidence of sweaty undulating bodies. No evidence of blood soaked steel.
Everything unwanted should be recycled.
Karma. The ultimate recycle.
In response to the 140th Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge based on a photo provided by Enisa.