Flash fiction - 2
Sunday, 10 February 2019
They’d had an argument.
He said, she’d booked a spur-of-the-moment whale-watching trip; he wasn’t sure when she’d be back.
She’d been gone a long time now and – unusually – no-one had received any postcards. I dropped by, thinking he’d be feeling lonely, but he seemed more than content. Fatter than ever. Ebullient almost. He’d thrown out her favourite chair and painted the kitchen a colour she’d hate.
The freshly dug ground was, he said, where he’d planted some daffodils but it didn’t feel like the right time of year for planting anything.
I didn’t dare ask again when she’d be back.
Posted: 10/02/2019 08:54:14
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Filed under: 100-word story
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