Half Glow (stream of consciousness writing 14)

She is out of fluid
In the .81 cent lighter
She bought
At the gas station
Last week
And she shakes
The damn thing
Violently
As if it were
Something
That needed spite

However
A few precious drops
From the bottom
Of the barrel
Made their way
Up to the flint
And in her fistful
Of rage
The drops exploded
Into a dim flame
For a few seconds
To expose her
Face to the dark world
As she crossed the street
While lighting her cigarette