It Happens

I think writing flash fiction is great mental exercise. I'll be taking this 100-word story to my critique group Monday evening to see what they have to say. What do you think?

She kicks gravel into the koi pond. A step away, he gazes at the moon. Their fingertips touch, separate, touch again.

So, this is it, then. She puts her hands in her hoodie.

His hand turns, palm up—an invitation. Doesn’t seem right, he says, you leavin’ me.

But you love her; you told me so. She pivots away.

Don’t be that way, he says. It happens, that’s all, like the moon glowing, the fish in the water, the pebbles.

She steals into the night, hopes receding with each stride. He studies the murky water. The koi flee. 

Note: I've removed pictures from this post and others created around the same time, because that's when this site began loading very slowly. No one has been able to figure out why. I've changed all kinds of things, including my web host. Now I'm going to see if deleting pictures posted when the problem began will help.