Flash Fiction No. 62


Oui Ja

“No,” he murmured calmly. “You don’t understand.”

Daylight squeezed through the murky panes, grey and dismal with the low hang of morning mist. She sat, motionless, in the chair. No words crossed her breath. He pursed his lips, hands deep in his pockets.

“This is why I didn’t want to do it. This is why I told you we shouldn’t play this stupid game.”

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