The door slammed and footsteps faded. On the radio the world without us was playing, our song; the song I died to.‘I don’t like this room, it’s too faded. Rip it out but keep the period radio,’ Mary says ticking her list.
I remain for footsteps and our song.
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This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.