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Thursday, December 11, 2008

Flash Fiction - "Rain"

A rain-spilled evening washes through open windows in cleansing gusts. Water trails down the glass in mournful tears that roll off the pane, then drop to the sidewalk five floors below. I hear the explosion of impact.

We once made love in the rain - a long time ago.

Life seeks to invade the enclosed walls of the apartment - cars honk, a couple laughs as they walk by - but the sounds are drowned out by the soft tick-tick-tick of the mantle clock.

My wine glass sits half-empty on the table beside a magazine flaunting a smiling woman on its cover, her chocolate-glossed lips mocking. Her joy is an illusion. She knows the world is shit. Her sparkling smile seeks to diminish that truth into a pleasant nothingness.

My heart beats; your's stopped ─ sometime this afternoon, around three - when the nurse pulled the tubes from your nose, your mouth. Your half-closed eyes stared past me into timelessness.

Tick-tick-tick. It's almost eight. Time inches along painfully. But that means nothing to you now.

Neither does the rain we once made love in.


Sharon Cullars Coffee Talk at 12/11/2008 10:37:00 PM Permanent Link     | | Home


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