Thank you to Alistair at Sunday Photo Fiction as always for providing this prompt! To read more stories for this prompt, click here.
Amy and Luke sat in the diner next to the window. After six years, they were calling it quits. She couldn’t conceive and he wanted kids. He wanted kids more than he wanted her.
She drank her unsweetened ice tea and waited. She glanced out the window and noticed the green cast to the sky. Her mother used to tell her that if the sky turned green you should head for the cellar.
“I think we should separate,” Luke said.
Her boot tapped the linoleum. Her eyes watched the sky.
“Are you listening?” he asked.
He sighed impatiently. “You’re okay with this?”
“What’s it matter?”
The tornado siren sounded, but the twister was already bearing down on the diner. Luke grabbed Amy and dragged her under the table. They clung to each other as the sound of a freight train roared around them. She squeezed her eyes tight and they rocked together. Debris flew around them. They tucked their heads down. She prayed for the first time in years.
Then it was over, but they didn’t move. They survived.
He kissed her eyebrow. “Forget what I was saying.”
Categories: Flash Fiction