| Friday Flash Fiction |
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The old woman who
sat on this park bench every morning and smiled at me as I walked by. I haven’t seen her recently. Where did she go? I’ll sit and wait for her return. She can’t have gone far.
4 Comments
3/3/2023 04:31:31 pm
We've walked a trail along the bluff overlooking the Sound for years and each day would pass by an older woman who hiked that trail each and every day. She told us she was 80 something, but wasn't sure about the something. One day we bumped into her husband, who was thrilled that we stopped to talk with her. She was in the early stages of dementia or Alzheimer's, but seemed to always remember us.
Robert
5/3/2023 04:01:17 am
Hi Jim...thanks for the interesting comment. I've always felt seeing the same people daily, like the woman you frequently encountered on the trail, meant life was regular, calm, uneventful...no gaps in the daily routine. Then one of those "daily regulars" goes missing and life is somehow altered. The Sound... Puget? Leave a Reply. |
PoetryThis is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most. 
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