A good day, he decided. A shift, a movement. He could not possibly predict now who he would become, only that watching his thumb press across that stray glop of Gillette and thus reveal a little more blue in the vanity countertop . . . exhilarated.
A story I wrote in 1977 at age 14, but for whatever else fairly pointed as early allegory! In embarrassment and nostalgia, I offer it here. “The game had no time limit. It ended when it ended. Nothing else could be said.”
It is as if the body, the flesh of pubescence around him, the skin of slow-decay in adults, asserts itself.
A flash prose reverie on what we hang on to, what we obscure.
Flash fiction, when it’s hard to get past.
At last, the professional audiobook version is complete, with original music by Randon Myles and read by the author! Get it now from wherever you find your listens.
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