Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Remains of the day

The slammed door told her go.

Outside, warmed by the morning sun, she saw again the snow dusted fields of the first time. The tearful promises wanting compassion.

Not this time.

She knew what he would wake up missing. He did say he wanted to stop being a cock.

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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.