Two Flash Fics by Cynthia Burke
The stove was cold and fast food boxes lined the counters. Waiting for word, waiting for some sign of life, all Alice could do was sit, stare and anticipate the ringing of the phone that always sat silent. Her stomach dropped when she realize the hour. The sun had set and she had not moved out of that chair for almost the entire day. The black bile of nothingness consumed her.
From Flash Flooding
I wondered of whom I should speak. The person who worked in a government building or made the evening meal? Should I describe the newly wed who just moved into the home where she planned to grow old; the hopeful…. I grew exhausted, as my words were never clear enough. “That’s not an emotion,” he barked. “No, go deeper,” he demanded. We discussed my tendency to lie; my desire to feel intelligent. The shock in me when others felt I was less significant, my need to control all.
State, from the angler
