Microfiction: Speed Dating

Heart on beach

ooh, cute guy at the bar!- but we’re off

#1 – well. I guess it’s not a deal-breaker …

#2 – mmm, visa hunter

OK #3 is blind drunk

#4 – nice eyes!

#5 – ”…the rope snapped and  -” aargh! the bell

#6 – sits with his back to me

#7 –…isn’t it “aged up to 40”?

#8 – no. just – no

#9 – man from the bar! “At last!”

#10 – …sorry, still thinking about  – we’re done?

definitely #9! #4 and #9…

…oh.

OK.

refresh?

I’ll just hit refresh

© Joanna Rubery 2017

Microfiction: Terminal

Door

“They’ve called me back,” she says, letter in hand.

“You’ll be fine, mum,” they all soothe. “Look, it’s snowing!”

White flakes. White coats. White lies.

“I’m very sorry -” but he isn’t, at all -“There’s nothing more we can do.”

No. She’s not ready. She has unfinished business. “Nothing?”

He’s scrawling away.

“Except the usual,” he says, nodding to a door in the corner, an ordinary door, with “Enjoy!”

She opens the door and steps through to sunshine and sea, her bare feet tiny on hot sand.

“And where’ve you been?” asks mum, shaking out a towel.

© Joanna Rubery 2017

Microfiction: The Other Side

Mum and baby

“Mummy!” Hot hands on my face: “Wake up!”

Kisses for breakfast. Hugs for lunch. We dance in the bathroom and sing on the stairs. I wrap him up warm and we wander down to the park again, stopping for sweets. That miserable shop girl never smiles!

He’s running across the road when the four-by-four nearly flattens him again and I scream, but then he waves at me from the other side, as always. I wave back.

“Alice,” says a familiar voice. That shop girl. “You can’t keep pretending, my love.” Her hand on my arm. “You can’t bring him back.”

© Joanna Rubery 2017