Friday Flash Fiction: Sunlight

His soft hand reached out for mine. “I’m sorry.”

My own skin, by comparison, must have felt rough. Humble. The calluses were testament to every day spent working the land. And after all, that was why I was here.

“The prognosis isn’t great,” he said, peering at his report. That meant nothing to me, but I nodded. “With aggressive treatment — well. The five-year survival rate is forty percent.”

Five years. Five harvests. If I was lucky.

My shoulders, once mountains, shook. I stared down at the mark on my skin. A childlike thought danced through my head: the pirates’ “Black Spot.” Mine, too, meant likely death.

Later, at home, I sat idly while my sister googled alternative therapies. “You could try yoga,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “Or meditation. There’s kombucha…”

I stared back at her blankly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s natural,” she said, shrugging.

“So’s sunlight,” I replied.

(150 Words)

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Image from Pixabay © pixel2013 2018

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Friday Flash Fiction: Morons

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“Excuse me—”

I reeled around. “For the last time,” I said, “I don’t work here! Just because I’m wearing a tie… when will you people realize?!”

“I—um—”

I shook my head. “I’ve just hadit with you morons! No, I don’t know where the masking tape is. Or the staplers. Or the ink. I swear, if one more dimwit asks me about acrylic paint…”

“No, sir, I’m sorry—it’s just—you dropped your wallet.”

(75 Words)

Image from Pixabay © Ashish_Choudhary 2014

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Friday Flash Fiction: The Investigation

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I put the detective’s empty mug in the sink.

“She was a good neighbor,” I said. “Kept to herself. If I can help more with the investigation…”

He nodded and left.

Back in the kitchen, I placed my hand on the freezer door. “That was close, wasn’t it, Mrs Hughes?”

(50 Words)

Image from Pixabay © Alexas_Fotos 2017

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Friday Flash Fiction: My Goodbye

I chewed the end of my pencil. I’d never been one for writing letters.

“I’m sorry this has to end.” I frowned; rubbed it out. “I’m sorry things have to end this way.”

I bit my lip. That would have to do.

“I want you to know that I’ll never forget you.”

I sighed. Goodbyes were the worst. I drained my glass of liquid courage.

“I hope there are no hard feelings.”

I gazed out across the street. A pair of lovers strolled by, arms entwined. I wanted to yell at them; to let them know their love was fleeting and naïve and fated to end.

“I am returning my key,” I wrote carefully.

Trudging along the road, the sullen dusk was at my back. I glanced at the envelope once more. “Active Life Gym, 259 North Street.” I closed my eyes one final time. And I mailed my goodbye.

(150 words)

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Image from Pixabay © Pezibear 2016

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