By Gary Duncan

Probably just a mouse, he’d said. She knew it was a rat. Could hear it gnawing at the skirting board in the wee hours. Not that he’d know. She’d hear him downstairs on the sofa, covered in fag ash and spilled beer, snoring. The floorboards reverberating as he coughed and sputtered. She didn’t know what was worse, that or the munching of sharp teeth against wood and plaster.

The exterminator in the crisp blue overalls said he’d lay traps and be as humane as possible. Said he’d be back in a day or two to dispose of the carcass.

Bio: Gary Duncan’s flash fiction collection, “You’re Not Supposed to Cry,” will be out in March 2017 from Vagabond Voices. He edits Spelk Fiction.


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