Flash Fiction
A series of very short stories for the summer.
“Happy New Year”
A long time ago, lots and lots of people lived on this island. Now there are only a few of us.
“The Third Premier”
He must be forever changed, we thought, entire fields of joy no longer his, every lovely thing tainted.
“The Books of Losing You”
I visited your room once to bring the book back but all we did was talk—you in shorts and me using your dumbbells. Was there a chance that night?
“The Door Between Us”
Again, I pressed my ear against the wall, but I heard nothing. Why couldn’t I have said something to her?
“The Penthouse”
We were lying on their bed. We were trying to be still and not ruin anything else. Soon we might even fall into sleep, our least disruptive state of being.
“The Boy at War and at Home”
His toy cars are out of gas, creating chaos at the checkpoint, but the plastic horses can still get through.
“Damages”
Tug too hard on a little footsy, and you wind up with a footsy in hand and a baby in tears.
“A Children’s Story”
“I want a happy ending,” the mother says, folding up the story and setting it on her nightstand. “You don’t know how to write happy.”
“My Cheesecake-Shaped Poverty”
We picked this place to live in for one simple reason: it was dirt cheap.