(100 word flash fiction)
She looks down at the street. Enough height for a jump to death. The thought makes her wet with desire. As though Death was her lover, waiting on the hard, cold pavement – indifferent, smirking, rejoicing at her pain. Like her lovers.
She hurls the potted plants out. Breathing in the crisp air, she feels lighter. Death can wait.
There’s a knock on the door.
A policeman hands her a letter.
“We found a man on the pavement below, killed by potted plants. We believe this letter is for you.”
She reads – “I’m sorry, Alice. Can I come back?”
After a very long break, I return for the weekly fix at Rochelle’s literary bar 🙂
Photo prompt below –
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot