Image by Rose McAvoy from Pixabay We sit outside, hoping a breeze will take over when the sun sets, but as it begins its descent, the winds become more still. The fans installed in the corners of the overhang create just enough air to keep us in our seats. We aren’t comfortable, but it will do.  “My mom is still sick.” Amanda says, wiping sweat from her neck before taking the stale ashtray from the table next to us, the memory of something enjoyed and discarded wafting toward me as it passes. Terese subtly shifts to avoid the smoke from Amanda’s cigarette. I don’t mind the fresh smell.  Lauren asks…

I am very proud to be included in the Summer issue of Spark Flash Fiction! You can read my charming little beach-located romance here.

Image by Thomas B. from Pixabay When He took you from me He promised you would become a flower. Any flower I chose. I thought of your resilience, remembered the times you should have caved but didn’t. When you ran, far before you walked, you wanted to jump. So you did. I never gave you up willingly. I held on for dear life, squeezed you so tight to me your tiny hands dug into my arms. Hugged your body to mine, allowing just enough air to breathe. You fought too. You pushed through side effects to play in the sun. When the sick tried to take over, you braced yourself…

Picture by Kellepics, courtesy of Pixabay. It was overcast today, but he knew what was coming. Summer started tomorrow. Tomorrow was the longest day. The Solstice. Tomorrow he would walk outside and greet the sun.   Tomorrow was her last day alive. He’d tried to fight it, tried to delay, but tomorrow was The Day. When the fight left him, he’d begged for that. At least let her have the Solstice. Let her have the longest day. They’d agreed to this one small mercy. When the sun rose, he went to see her. She stood tall and beautiful now, but he saw her sadness, her understanding. A small boy sat nearby, chatting…

I entered the church and went straight to Emily. I hugged her, as we always do when we see each other, but I held on longer. She didn’t mind. We aren’t family, so I wasn’t allowed to sit with her. I pointed to the pews along the side, where Judy sat.  “I will be with her. I will always be looking at you, so if you feel like you need me I’m right there.” I’d never been to a funeral before. Judy said she had, so I let her tell me what to do. Make sure your friend can always see you. Make sure she doesn’t see you cry. Tell…