Thank you so much to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
All the Conjecture
“She fell. Hit her head.”
It fits. Icy steps and that.
“Unless those stone whacked her rather than being impassive.”
At 2 am the power goes out and truth erupts as if someone injected serum.
No love lost.
“I loved her,” her ex- says.
“Me too,” says a stranger.
“She hung the moon.”
A high school dance. Women on one side. Men on the other.
“She jumped from the second floor,” a soft voice says.
Eyes seek eyes, fall away.
“I couldn’t love her,” the soft says.
“You killed her.”
“Maybe not as much as you.”