Flash Fiction Day #2

Written as part of Flash Fiction Day 2016 hosted by Damon L. Wakes on June 22nd.

Inspired by “Whatever you like” ~ by T.I.  while doing my laundry.

Part 1: One plus one equals 2

Because you don’t like me the way I love you.

He gave her a hickey, and as it faded so did their love.

The first three hours were post-coital bliss; mostly spent cuddling and sleeping. By morning, they blearily eyed each other over the gulf of growing distance. A canyon between them, a classic divide over bowls of cold cereal at the kitchen island. Wendy stared menacingly at his discarded sock sitting in the corner behind her potted plant and wondered if he’d remember to take it with him. Otherwise it would join her growing single-sock collection from past dates.

She was starting to wonder if he was going to be another mistake.

Their dirty dishes hit the sink. They’d stopped caressing each other and stilted conversation had entered the room, an unwelcome, third-wheeled companion. Clomping around in one sock, John restlessly collected his items from where they’d been discarded in the dark. Wallet, keys, and belt. He felt her watching him like a hawk in the light of day, and with kidney cleansed clarity, John wondered whether he’d even noticed how blunt and cold she seemed.

Where was that sock?

Wendy left him sock-hunting in the living room. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and locked eyes with her reflection.

Whatever you like, baby. Yeah? Like that?

She slapped the mirror, rattling the memory out of her head. Stripping out of the over-sized shirt, she stepped into the shower. Fuck him. 

You already did, her traitorous mind replied.

John paused outside the bathroom, she didn’t seem to be coming out any time soon. Would it be too awkward to just jet without even saying goodbye? He shrugged and headed for the door.

He didn’t need the other sock anyway.

Moments later, Wendy stepped out the bathroom, bone dry. She heard the front door click shut, and darts to the window. There he is.

There he goes…

He walked away without a backwards glance. Wendy narrowed her eyes as he sauntered down the walkway and climbed into his Mustang Shelby GT350. With a satisfied purr, the fine machine pulled away, taking the fine man with it.

Wendy spun from the window. Stalking to the kitchen, she pinched the prodigal sock between her fingers and tossed it into the trash.

That’s okay. She doesn’t need the other sock either.

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opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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