This week, I am writing flash fiction.
Read why. Or don't. Either way.
Happy National Flash Fiction Day! Be sure to check out FlashFlood, where many awesome flash pieces from various authors are being posted throughout the day, including one of mine later tonight!
But for now, here's something different:
Hollow Words by Michael R. Young
“I brought you some cookies,” she said.
“Thanks,” is what he said, though it sounded more like, “Thanks?”
He pretended to examine the plate, dumbly lifting the pink cellophane to get a better look.
Her jaw still chattered faintly, though not due to the cold.
“Well, I guess I better get going,” she said, knowing it was what he wanted her to say.
They hugged. It was a much different hug than they had shared many times before, and for some reason it reminded him of a middle school dance. Emptiness lay between them.
He opened the door for her.
That’s the least he could do, she thought as she squeezed by him to exit.
She turned around to face him.
“I’m sorry about all of this,” he said, still propping the door open with his back. “I don’t really know what to say.”
“I feel hollow,” she said, her faced suddenly scrunched with tears welled in her eyes.
He left the doorway and he wrapped her in his arms and they hugged like they used to. “It will all be okay.”
“It won’t. It won’t be the same,” she said, pushing him back. “Not now.” The abandoned door reached its home, slamming behind him.
He was locked out.
“We can try.”
“We can’t” she said. Her words were visible as they left her lips in a cloud. “We can never be what we were.”
Her words floated upwards until they disappeared into the sky.
Into heaven. Into nothingness.
There and then not there, like what they had created and then destroyed. Even heavier after it was gone.