He asked for me by name, they said, this man with twitching eyes and an impatient stance.
Closing the distance, he seems to shrink. He nods as I introduce myself, his lips forming words that sink my heart. He hands me a nondescript envelope containing your desire to leave me.
Lancelot is a creative writer at heart who fears rejection, and therefore keeps his stories locked away in his mind.
He closed the door behind him and looked over the room. A melancholic expression was drawn across his face.
It was curious how ordinary things had acquired very special meanings while they were together.
She was gone, but everything else stayed the same, a cruel reminder of their broken story.
José Jaime is from Spain and is studying at university.
The moment River’s life ended, brick by brick I built the wall. Covered the searing pain with concrete so no one could see. People passed and acknowledged the smile. The nod. The pleasantries.
Till you saw and lay down beside me, held me, and whispered. Whispered like River used to.
Eileen Brennan McIntyre is a writer from Northern California who loves writing stories that touch the heart.
I didn’t give her my password because it was “I LOVE SUSAN,” and I hadn’t told her yet. She ended the relationship the following morning with a text. She said if I couldn’t trust her, she couldn’t stay.
I responded with the password, but she said it was too late.
Rob O’Hara works with computers all day and words all night. Find out what Rob’s up to at RobOHara.com.
“Show, don’t tell,” you told me. “Use action to illustrate your point.”
Of course, you were right. I’d failed to get what I wanted to say across.
“I really do love you,” I said. Then I picked up my socks from the floor and put them in the wash basket.
David Rae wrote this story. See more at davidrae-stories.com.
“Before we go our separate ways…”
“I just wanted to say…”
“That it’s been great knowing you…”
“I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off…”
They’re still running as they say their goodbyes, the thwup-thwup-thwup of the helicopters growing louder.
I. E. Kneverday is a writer of fiction. His first book, The Woburn Chronicles: A Trio of Supernatural Tales Set in New England’s Most Mysterious City, is available now. You can read more of Kneverday’s microfiction on Medium.
If he hadn’t hit the ball.
If she hadn’t caught it and tossed back the most luminous smile in the annals of baseball.
If he hadn’t scribbled his number on it.
If she hadn’t called, laughing and calling him “ballsy.”
But he had and she had. Together for eternal If.
Tilia Klebenov Jacobs is the author of Wrong Place, Wrong Time and Second Helpings at the Serve You Right Café as well as numerous short stories. She is a reviewer for IndieReader.com, a judge in San Francisco’s Soul-Making Keats Literary Competition, and a board member of Mystery Writers of America. Additionally, Tilia teaches writing classes for prison inmates. See more at tiliaklebenovjacobs.com.
I didn’t go to his first wedding—the one that was supposed to be mine, too—but I went to all the ones after that.
The last one was different… bittersweet. It felt like a goodbye as much as a beginning, but in some ways, aren’t all weddings like that?
Erin is an artist and editor living in Los Angeles.
They’re walking hand in hand like always, blushing as red as the leaves they kick up while they walk.
He can almost remember the smell of her perfume.
“Come away from the window, now,” the nurse says, toting his oxygen tank. “You shouldn’t stare like that. What’s there to see?”
Jamie Brian is a pilot and flight instructor from Pennsylvania. She makes sense of the world through poetry. Her office may be in the clouds, but she feels firmly rooted with a pen in her hand.
Iris knew she had made the right choice, because after two weeks she didn’t miss him. It felt better to stretch out in bed, and she didn’t have to watch sports anymore.
The only thing that bothered her was the photos he had taken and the secrets that he knew.
Dan Shushko wrote this story.