All the time in the world
There’s always tomorrow.
She was that woman, procrastinating on life, until life raised its middle finger and laughed.
When they’re dead, it’s too late to tell them you loved them, you never meant the words you said, beg for forgiveness. When they’re dead, all of the unsaid words, best intentions, half-hearted gestures, mean nothing.
And how do you forgive yourself when you believed you had all the time in the world?
Categories: Flash Fiction