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I’m writing to you about fiction again, not design, color, or jewelry. I’ll get back to those passions next week, because I will have exciting news to tell you (especially those of you who have been wanting to take classes from me, but can’t because I’m here and you’re there and I never get there). More on that next week.
Today I’d like to share another excerpt from one of the flash fiction stories I contributed to the fiction and poetry compilation, Mosaic. One of the things I find most beautiful in life is hope: hope that in the dark becomes a beacon of light; hope that people who have suffered great loss hold, even as their backs are bent in grief. This story is one of hope. Its title is “Connecting Flight.”
“I’m at the gate waiting to board Zone 3. Three years ago I would’ve been thrilled to be going home. Three years ago Sarah would’ve been there waiting for me. I instinctively rub my left thumb against the ring I cannot – will not – take off. That was a long three years ago.
Out of the corner of my eye I see jerky movements. I turn and pretend to look through the window at the plane we’re about to board, but I’m really trying to see what’s going on. She’s very old. In a wheelchair. Bright pink shirt. Her claw-like hands rhythmically clutch and release a purse. Her head trembles. God, I hope I’m not sitting next to her. I hate myself a little for thinking that, but why should I? I just want a quiet flight. Old women always want to talk.
Once I’m in my seat, who do you think the flight attendant helps into the aisle seat next to me? Of course.”
To read more download Mosaic for free.
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