After our split we morphed into mere apparitions dismissed by the other with a turn of the head. No social foot prints were left for the other to discover, friends were enlisted as spies concocting elaborate cloak and dagger routines assuring we never went to the same party, never appeared at the same wedding the …
Each foot vanishes in newly fallen snow only to reappear as I exchange left for right. Nothing stirs. Birds and squirrels normally scampering and chirping on the edges of my walk, have disappeared. Swinging arms and exaggerated puffing of the daily runners I often pass, are absent. The slightly wobbly bicycles zooming by with …
Feeling crept into awareness, subtle flavor I nearly missed lingers on my tongue. Alone I stand starring at the mirror, my face starring back at me. Flushed red frowning, puffy anger clinging to cheeks like rusted barnacles, all this I feel from the emptiness surrounding me, when your not here.
My imagination is pulling away from reality so quickly. I am sure my mind is beginning to resemblance a dirty clothes hamper, tangled and rotting from within.
I gazed directly at the edginess walking slowly toward me. It’s not that I was daydreaming or counting the three pennies in my jeans pocket, no I looked straight ahead devouring scenes of early spring propelled upon dusty work boots, and over the city sidewalks I maneuvered around heaved concrete slabs listening as they sighed a late winter death rattle.
The sun was shinning, but not so brightly that I couldn’t see I was walking toward a hot mess of confusion and it toward me. If anyone else saw the eminent collision they failed that warm spring day to offer warning. I continued directly toward the menacing roar of belching anxiety, it spewing forth plumes like a Chinese dragon extolling cheap fireworks dancing on blind legs.
Toward the end of the year I was pondering what Flash Fiction Fidelity (faithfulness) would look like if put into words or chalked out upon a soiled building wall deep within some forgotten alley. Like the chalk maybe rules for writing Flash are meant to dissolve with the first rain, dripping into an ever widening …
The razor’s dull blade chafed skin beneath snow white Barbasol mimicking the unevenness that marked my failed life. Each nick reminding me of dreams long ago blushing pregnant, with promise. How I’ve wished to join those vanquished hopes following them down the drain of my corroded mind. Routine has become a prison and I have …