“You took your time.” He jogged on the spot, hands locked away in pockets.
“Yeah, well, I had to be somewhere.” The other said.
“There was me thinking there could be nowhere better than here.” He took both hands out, funnelled them and blew.
“When did I say it was any better?”
And she whispered into my ear: “I want to see the clouds.”
“Again?” I asked.
Her hot breath a zephyr. “Again.”
I held my lungs in position, kept my lips chaste. Her fingers wondered.
“Again.”
I rolled over and pushed against the window.
Cold air rushed in.
I shivered.
As I travel home with the distant winter sun cutting across my vision, I wonder: how many times have I followed this path?
I think, if I repeat each step each day, then the ground might give way.
I duck into that familiar alley. The sun shorts out. My eyes open.
He moved on.
Long hair, soft hands – a single freckle below the neck line.
Love handles.
He rolled back and forth in his bed, alone, mimicking lost movements.
He got up to relieve himself. He got up to eat.
He tracked back and forth in his head, silent.
He moved on.
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
Tagged fiction, life, loneliness, people, short story
“So why don’t we all just sit about staring at each other over mixed nuts and sherry, praying that the other nutters in the room will roll over and die to avoid the possibility we might have to actually talk to each other. Wouldn’t that be fun? I think I might hate you and your Christmas.”
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
When he got off the bus he stopped, then dropped and picked up an empty plastic bottle. A few metres on, he did the same, as if to put it down. He didn’t. He walked on.
The woman in front of me, upright and smart, frowned as she studied him.
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
I couldn’t go through with it.
“Please.“
“You’re too weak for this.”
“It’s what I want.”
The truth was: I was too weak.
And then you’re lips against mine; all cracked and worn. A tight, pinching grip on my shoulder.
Your eyes were fluttering.
In my head I knew. Either it was ecstasy or a death throe.
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
…And the clicking ticks of a clock.
You didn’t think we’d make it, but we very nearly did. It felt like a lifetime of watches had fallen through my hands, and one of them recorded that moment.
I lost the taste of your lips.
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
There is a building on one side, fenced off and wrapped in swaddling. Men in fluorescent suits busy themselves, back and forth, bent under the interminable rain. On the opposite side they raise up towers of steel and glass, grasping at a bitter sky and blocking out the light, casting my path into darkness.
Posted in Fiction, fifty words
