Flash Fiction

“There’s nothing in a country mile,” Jack told Evelyn while they shared a bistro table at a tiny sidewalk cafe. The streets were bumper to bumper and pedestrians streamed past in a blur of summer dresses and lightweight suits. “Where did that come from?” Evelyn asked, as she casually lifted her glass of white wine. […]

I was on my way to the kitchen, crossing the dark foyer, when he came downstairs to find me. It was early, maybe around 6:30, but already dark as midnight. I heard him from the shadows as he called my name, said, “You have to see this.” His vague shape with its familiar angles disappeared