The Morning After

image

(flash fiction inspired by Alessandro Fiorini’s painting Tradita*)

He’s coming, she thinks, looking outside. The breeze from the shore caresses her face. The sun is rising high in the sky; soon will be too hot to leave the windows open.

He’s coming. The sheets lie crumpled at her side as a sea of stormy thoughts. The perfume she had carefully donned is wafting away. Nearby, a gate opens and closes, rusted hinges breaking the morning silence.

He’s coming. She blinks, once, twice, refusing to move. Her eyes are growing tired to stare at the ever-moving, liquid surface, now busy with colorful boats coming back to the marina. The tempest has come and gone, leaving behind a trail of waste marring the once-beautiful blue. She focuses her attention on a piece of floating wood. Her heart skips a beat. Tears fill her dark eyes.

He’s coming. She knows, joy finally descends upon her. The piece of wood is just such. A familiar shape fending through the crowded water commands her attention. The small boat seems to fly over the waves, sending the debris away in its wake, a bright light intermittingly flashing a love letter.

“I’m coming home,” it says. She smiles and closes the window.

 

*Although the original title of the painting means ‘betrayed’, while I was writing this piece I thought that the lovely woman in the picture deserved a happier ending. There is something about her and the light surrounding her that compelled me to write something permeated by hope.

Advertisements
The Morning After

Fish out of water

Koi out of waterMy mind feels like a black chalkboard. Everybody can write on it and erase what they want. They say I feel this way because I am young. They say one day I’ll grow out of me and I’ll become someone else: a stronger, beautiful version of what I am now. But, what if I don’t want to be like the ones bullying me now? What if I want to remain small insignificant me for the rest of my life?

Fish out of water