A hint of musk from your Old Spice aftershave lingers on our sheets yet brings me no relief, so I pull the lone strand of hair you left behind off the comforter and twirl it between my fingertips with a hint of curl still on its tip. Still, these remnants of you are insufficient and won't settle my restless heart as I lie alone in the dark, no longer making out the slight oval indent from your head on the empty pillow beside me. My heart climbs up into my throat, choking me with the thought of being here without you. I make my eyes thin as dime slits, bringing the pillow closer into focus, desperate to find the hollow notch from your head in the pillow's downy palm, but I see nothing here but dread. I take two deep breaths to calm my nerves, breathing in 1-2-3, breathing out 1-2-3, breathing in 1-2-3, and breathing out 1-2-3. Soon, distant sounds from the next room slowly release the fear squatting in my throat and my pounding heart tapers. The phish from a rushing toilet, the click of a light switch, the creak from a door's hinges, and the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of slippers shuffling back toward our bed envelopes my senses as warmly as light, and now my heart rests peacefully beside my love until you're gone again from my sight.
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Margo has worked in public education for over thirty years and is the mother of two daughters and to the best rescue dog ever, Harley. Her work has appeared in Bending Genres, Bright Flash Literary Review, Literary Namjooning, and Roi Fainéant Press. Upcoming in early 2025 in Brilliant Flash Fiction, JAKE and Reckon Review. Twitter @67MGriffin/Bluesky @67MGriffin.bsky.social
Whoa! Fabulous!
Well-written and accurate description of the feelings created by an absent lover -- and then, alas, he's not absent after all. I enjoyed this flash.