Sorry for the barrage of posts today…already and it’s early! But it’s Monday and the beginning of the week and all things, such as me catching up.
This flash fiction was written for Carrot Ranch (Thanks, Charli, so glad to hear you’re up and running) where we were asked to use “back up,” with whatever meaning we might choose. If you’d like to join in, click any of the links to be taken to Carrot Ranch. But hurry, because, as I mentioned, I’m late and catching up (what’s new?!).
ed. to change “clink” to “click” because I don’t know what might happen if you “clink” on a “link.” 😉
All the Time (99 words)
Every step forward is two steps back: Back up! Back up! Back up!
Celia thought the worst thing would have been running the red light. “Eric, stop!”
The worst thing was backing up, the Mercedes crunching their Toyota pickup, the airbags bursting, screams, shatters, blackness, waking alone. All those taut lips, pitying eyes. “She lost her husband and her baby.” Husband and baby lost. The repetition a desolate refrain.
Her sister drags her, sometimes forcibly, to grief counseling where they say, “Time,” or that’s the perceived message.
She remembers Eric’s hand on her belly. “We got all the time.”