She was alone in the wilderness of the coronavirus. Telecommuting to work, texting friends, waving to neighbors from a distance.
She took a long drive. At a quiet intersection, she stopped briefly at the red light, then accelerated.
The police car behind her turned on its siren.
Finally, a conversation.
C.G. Thompson’s stories most recently have appeared in FlashBack Fiction, Brilliant Flash Fiction, and Flash Frontier. In December, one of her stories was read in Hong Kong. Her work has also previously appeared in 50-Word Stories.
Knotty-pine rails and shorn winter grass,
pastures wandering aimlessly,
subdued air chewed to the quick.
Puddles notch the ground
(rough-hewn mirrors of regret)
at the hushed gate where he waited.
The morning of the horse’s passing,
a rickety world presents itself,
clouds cobbled together
in a pale and unfinished sky.
C.G. Thompson was once owned by a tall pony who was kind enough to listen to her talk about poetry. Sadly, he passed away before any of her poems about him were published. She had hoped to read them to him. He continues to be an inspiration.
“Brake before the curve,” her mother always told her in mountainous terrain.
Senior year, she met him in philosophy class, slept with him when he mentioned love.
“We’re too young to get serious,” he said one night. Permanent goodbye.
Spring semester, he was engaged.
His words were code. Broke her.
C.G. Thompson has two stories in the recently released TL;DR Press’ Women’s Anthology: Carrying Fire. Other stories and poems have appeared in Yalobusha Review, Prime Number Magazine, Fictive Dream, Jersey Devil Press, and Redheaded Stepchild, among others.