Tonight I tasted falsehoods in her kisses. I see them, now, in the fall of her hair across my pillow and the angle of her hip. My heart is an overwound spring, an unsigned contract. Sleeping, she is honest: she does not love me.
Tag: microprose
Odyssey
We are in transit, forever walking between courtesies, forever skirting the edges of our discomfort. You stop to take a breath, to tie your shoe. I urge you on. Look, I say. Home is over the next ridge. No, you say. Home is in our hands. This microstory borrows a line from the poem she … Continue reading Odyssey
Accord
“I will go, if you ask it.” The lantern is turned down low. Its dim light pools on the table, glints off the brandy glass dangling from your fingers. I wish I could see your face. “No.” Your voice drifts out of the shadows, gentle as rain. “Stay.”
Launch
"On my word." The Admiral spoke without rancor. “Yes, ma’am.” My hand hovered above the console. The bridge was silent; everyone was waiting for me. This could start the end of everything. “Go,” she said. I pushed the button.
Kismet
Six months ago I’d’ve said it's crazy, the idea of you and me. Six weeks ago I almost walked away. Shaking my head, I button my best shirt, red garnets winking at collar and cuffs, and watch your face light up in the mirror.
