I wrote this for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 44th challenge for the week of December 15, 2015 earlier this week. Then I got caught up with finishing an online class, getting my house tidied up for the holidays and planning the big Fish Feast for Christmas Eve. I realized today I neglected to publish and link up the post. So here it is now –
go here to link up or read other submissions.
The Good Old Days
I would ride my bike to see her. The wind parting like the red sea before me as I rode swiftly through the town.
I’d climb the three flights to her door. Three loud knocks and she’d be there in three heartbeats — Stunning and always wearing a smile. I’d hand her the day-old bread and the chicory. She’d warm the bread and serve it with olive oil and salt. We’d drink the chicory and pretend it was coffee — like in the good old days. We’d laugh and stop abruptly, unsure why we were so gay.
— She waved from the balcony as I mounted my bicycle. A burst of siren’s song came with a blast. Brick crumbled down. I looked up and she was gone.
word count: 125