After Dinner
Mario finished his soup, then walked outside to have a smoke.
After waiting some time for Malva to come out and join him with her knitting, he remembered.
Even after ten years, the memory of her lived and breathed in his eyes and ears, like a movie he could play whenever he felt like it.
If he so desired, he could just call out to her:
Malva, won’t you come out now, sweetheart? You’re missing the view…
And she’d just as soon answer:
I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Just tidyin’ up a bit…
Tonight, though, he just smiled at the quiet ocean and let the memory be.
Through the timeridges on his face, a tear slid down and became one with the sea.
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More microfiction:
that last line really is something! this was heartbreaking to read, honestly. i love how it's simple but gets you feeling
Really nice piece of flash fiction!