She emptied the contents of the tiny paper envelope into his coffee along with milk and sugar.
Repositioned the to-go cup by his packed lunch until it looked casual.
As he gathered up his things and pecked her cheek, she debated whether to say “I love you,” or maybe “Goodbye.”
Tim Boiteau writes and lives near Detroit with his wife and son.
I once knew an absent-minded assassin who sent poisoned letters through the post. After a note had been anonymously deposited to be postmarked, she’d apply her favorite perfume and take herself out on the town.
Her career came to an end shortly after she mailed a letter doused in perfume.
Sarah Krenicki does not wear perfume. This could end up being a lifesaver.
She held the bouquet above the trash; figures he sent flowers, probably something rare. Tropical.
Didn’t matter; it’s over anyway. Guy’s a bore. Freaking entomologist; creepo, always going on about bugs.
Well, it was done.
She glanced down at the bouquet, and felt a sharp sting. Burning sensation.
Dark, sharp, and short – Liz is a writer living in the wilds of Canada with her black cats and her laptop (the wifi’s pretty good in the boonies). She loves themes of loss, love, and change, all with a twist of something else. Her work appears in all the usual places, but most recently on Spelk, Yellow Mama, Near to the Knuckle and Twisted Sister lit mag. You can find her at lizmcadams.wordpress.com
Rose Jennings opened the letter and started reading.
She wasn’t in the highest of spirits, having just come from the hospital where her sister passed away from accidental poisoning.
The unnamed author expressed their sentiments. She was touched until she noticed the date on the letter: September 1st.
Eric has been writing short stories for around a year.
Flowers were everywhere. It smelled delicious in the newlyweds’ apartment.
It was from there that they’d planned to set out on their honeymoon journey early that morning. They hadn’t, and never would do it in their life, having been poisoned by the wine from one of the bridesmaids’ gift bottles.
Victor Bort is Russian, and English is a lifelong hobby of his. He has had some previous flash fiction published online, but this is his first time on 50-Word Stories.
Dr. Ruination glowered across the table at superspy John Bolt. He tapped his fork, waiting for Bolt to start dining. Since they’d ordered the same meal, Dr. Ruination wasn’t positive he hadn’t received the poisoned one. He could have thrown his meal away, but he never liked to waste food.
This is the fourth in a series of five stories by King Kool.
Gus poked his head into the fridge. There were three bottles of milk lined up on the top shelf. The label on the first one said, “Safe to Drink”. The label on the second one said, “Biochemistry experiment – poisonous!” The label on the third one said, “Other labels potentially backwards”.
The idea for this story came from a suggestion by @meur1234.