A man (not her husband) had loved her last summer. He never said so, never kissed her, so maybe he hadn’t, but the wondering lit her up like a firefly. His absence weighed a thousand pounds and made her ears ring. Having almost certainly been loved still made her dance.
N. West Moss has had her work published in the New York Times, McSweeney’s, Salon, and elsewhere. Her short story collection, The Subway Stops at Bryant Park, was published by Leapfrog Press. Her forthcoming memoir, Flesh and Blood, is being published by Algonquin in October 2021.
I LOVE this! How perfectly it captures the feelings of the protagonist. How perfectly it captures the electricity of (even temporary) attraction.
<3
Triggers many more than fifty words in my head.
Oh the wondering ♥️
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50 words. 100 feelings. Yes. The wondering.
Xxx
Sweet!
Great piece.
Oooh so good.
Beautiful
Firefly reference
Brava
quack
“having almost certainly been loved…” magnificent
There’s still one word I wish I could change. Instead of “Having almost certainly been loved still made her dance” I wish I had written, “Having almost certainly been loved, though, made her dance.” It makes my point more clearly, and I only mention it here because revision is a forever thing
That is a sharp edit, Ms. Moss. People who say “never adverbs,” especially in short pieces, are too absolutist.