Figment
Flash Fiction
We were walking back from the beach, the evening blue and moonlight submerging us as we followed the sidewalk to my front porch. No words, just thoughts, just senses. We walked for miles, exploring our inner worlds, our reflections. He still doesn’t know about my dreams. If he knew, it would change them. I want to keep them as long as I can. I can’t wake up now.
We approach my house. He hugged me a slow and disappointed goodbye. I walked toward my door but felt his hand on my shoulder.
“I want to know you. I don’t want to stop trying.”
I saw his eyes, serious and heavy. Without a sound he walked on, I looked back. I searched for my keys in my backpack but found the door was unlocked. I walked in … I woke up.
It was six a.m. The light in my room was as blue as it was in my dream. I lay there thinking about where I had been, wondering whether to go back or write it down. I didn’t want to see him anytime soon without finding a way to fill the space he suspected. I started writing.
more by ANNA ELISE
photograph by John-Mark Kuznietsov
