He stood, toes of his shoes on the edge of the skyscraper he’d worked in for years. He looked down at the ants scurrying around. The height of this particular building was extreme, and he knew what would happen when he jumped.
He went back in and quit instead.
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged beauty, decisions, don't jump, fiction, flash fiction, life, live life, people, sad, skyscraper, suicide, suicide isn't worth it, unhappy, unhappy with life, work, writing
Artwork by Kate Hiscock of Slightly Me
He watches them embrace from across the street, right under the little orange hand that warns him it was not safe to cross. It glows, mocking him, forcing him to keep his distance.
He wants what they have. But he know his role in life, he knows where this all ends up.
He is the boy with no happy ending. If his past has taught him anything, it is this. And he accepts it.
He has this power over people, they find him so interesting, so quirky, so rare.
And yet he will never find love. And he accepts this.
The couple across the street, coming in and out of view as cars rushed by blurring his view of them, move as if under a strobe light.
Flash. They are kissing.
Flash. She pulls away.
Flash. He smiles.
Flash. She smiles.
Flash. They kiss again.
He watches, trying not to, attempting to look away before they notice how he stares at their obvious and understood love for each other. Everyone witnessing this moment can see their devotion. It is clear.
He wants a beautiful person to kiss on a corner, a sad goodbye even though they both know they will be in each other’s arms again later that night.
He will never meet that girl. And he accepts this.
More cars.
Flash. He gently strokes the tattoo on her arm.
Flash. She brushes a tuft of his dyed blonde hair away from his face.
Flash. He does the same to her and laughs.
Flash. She lets out a flirtatious giggle.
Flash. They are kissing again.
A bus passes and The Boy With No Happy Ending notices a woman on it with messy hair and an oversized gray sweater on. She is staring out of the window with a distant, melancholy look, and he knows how she feels.
As the bus pulls away, leaving a dark cloud of pollution behind it, he sees that the couple is no longer embracing on the corner. The girl is walking away, the guy is walking towards his side of the street.
The orange hand disappears, and the little white man appears, telling the boy it’s now safe to cross.
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged art, couples, depression, fiction, flash fiction, hapy endings, humor, life, love, photography, photoshop, poem, poetry, romance, sad, sadness, slightly me, slightlyme, superpower, unhappy
or Sometimes You Just Need to Vent
“Did you ever notice you never finish anything you start?”
She looks over her shoulder at a dusty, half-finished dress and returns her gaze to me.
“Huh?”
“Besides that dress. Not what I was talking about. But that too. It makes the dining room look messy.”
“You know I’ve been down lately.”
“Yeah, I know. You hate your job. I know. So look for a new one?”
She flops over onto her back, resting her head on the arm of the couch and stares at the ceiling. A bad sign.
“I look almost every day.”
“And nothing?” I ask. I feel more like a parent than a lover, a huge turnoff.
“Nope.”
She sits up again. Here comes the subject change.
“I need a car. My new goal is to save up for a car.”
Oh lord.
“Um, you barely make your half of the rent now and it’s always late. Where will you get money for a car? Or insurance?”
“I’ll work more. Get more hours or something.”
“And school? Last week you said you wanted to go back to school. We’re already getting attacked by annoying reps from schools, not to mention the mailers.”
“I’ll have to put that off for a while.”
“Like the dress. And your blog. And becoming a vegetarian, remember that one? You brought home steak the second night. And everything else you start.”
She flops back down onto her back. Ceiling again.
“What kind of car should I get?”
I want to scream.
“Are you happy?”
She actually turns and looks at me.
“I dunno.”
“What do you mean? What makes you happy? What makes you get up in the morning?”
“You.”
I can’t take this.
“What else?”
She thinks about it.
“I dunno.”
“Well I think you need to make yourself happy. And stop depending on me for all your happiness. I can’t take it.”
“Well it’s not like I have lots of friends here to go out with. I just moved here.”
A year ago.
“A year ago. A whole year. Do you even try?”
She folded her arms like a child and frowned. I can’t take it anymore.
“We need to talk.”
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged breakups, end, fiction, flash fiction, frustration, lazy, life, love, stupid ex girlfriends, unhappy
A Flash of Inspiration 