Post 1640. Tuesday November 21
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
We used to love sitting here watching the setting sun, didn’t we? I remember one day we had a trivial conversation along the lines of ‘how’s work, how’s your mum, what did you have for lunch, you need a haircut... will you marry me?’ You should have seen your face. You had a fit of giggles and said ‘no!’ Then you looked me in the eye and said ‘of course I’ll marry you’
Then your sun set, too soon. Why? I blamed myself. I blamed your family, I blamed the doctors, I blamed God. How dare he? I was angry, so angry. But it was nobody’s fault. These things happen. To some. To you.
That was a long time ago, and here I am watching the setting sun again, just as we used to. The bench is still here; it's a bit weather-worn and wobbly, a bit like me. That oak tree’s still over there. It doesn’t look a day older, unlike me! There’s one thing missing. You are missing. You.
Word count 169