Sunday, 31 January 2016
100 - Flash Fiction
People are clumsy in the morning.
I stumble and fall over everything. The bed sheets, my shoes, invisible cats. Everything. I noticed the writing on the back of my hand.
One Hundred Days
That's all I have left.
There is nothing peculiar about this morning. My wife is doing the dishes. She has three thousand and four days on the back of her hand.
I walk down the stairs. We have thirteen steps. That's seven point six days for every step.
I am becoming a mathematical genius in the short time I have left. My wife has broken a cup.
100 Words written for the 100 Word Challenge hosted by Tara Roberts over at Thin Spiral Notebook. Check it out and maybe join in the fun.
Sarah Laughs Home
Writers' Soapbox on Facebook