Flash Fiction
-
The door of the shop swung open, causing a high-pitched bell to ring out into a room filled with the deep, robust smell of coffee and sweet fragrances coming from the row of pastries lining the counter. Several heads popped up from their conversations, computers, and phones, assessing the new arrival. The woman approached
-
Where was he, I thought as I skimmed the shelves of our town’s local bookstore. My eyes scanned over the titles as I ran my fingers across the top of their bindings: The Round House, Macbeth, Where the Crawdads Sing, Everything that Rises Must Converge. I tried to follow the mental gymnastics used to place
-
My hands were trembling as I ripped open the box and fumbled with yet another plastic wrapping. I was clenching my knees together so tight that I thought the bone would crack. I had drunk four bottles of water before bed last night, and now my bladder was ready, but I wasn’t. “Dammit.” Finally, I