I am using the last ten days of the #nanowrimoprompt to post linked flash fiction-ish, non-chronologically ordered, pieces here on the blog. Here is 21 & 22, 23, 24 & 25. I am running a little behind, but am aiming to finish off the final three tomorrow.
26. Kiss
He bought her a double scoop icecream at Circular Quay. It was hot and Frank pushed his sunglasses high up the bridge of his nose, pretending that the sun didn’t bother his eyes. He wasn’t trying to be incognito – at least, that’s what he told himself. Buying a date an icecream was a very ordinary thing to do, after all. The fact he was over a decade older than his date… well, that was less ordinary. Especially when he was already married.
Especially when, half an hour later, they wound up back at the hotel and her mouth tasted like vanilla and he realised he was experiencing something very close to love. It was new and terrifying.
27. Funeral
Franco stood alone in the cemetery, staring into his mother’s open grave. The service was long over, the ceremonial clods of earth had dropped on the top of the coffin. He felt eyes watching him from a respectful distance, waiting to dig the dirt back in the hole. His aunts had offered to wait, but he waved them on an hour ago; they’d already learned enough about their single-minded nephew that he would not change his mind, that he was driven by an energy they’d not seen so well developed in someone so young. Franco, in turn, had realised he could not stay with these people. He had other plans.
Finally, he took a step back, ready to leave. Keeping his mind empty, the effort of pushing back grief, had made him tired. The walk back to the village would stretch his muscles. It was almost dark by the time he made it back to the house he had shared with his mother and her widowed sister. Standing by the front gate was a girl of about his age in a brown house dress looking up and down the road as if she was searching for someone. She turned and started when he walked out of the shadows. Pushing away a blowaway tendril of hair with her hand, she smiled bashfully.
“There you are,” she said.
“Here I am,” he said, putting a hand on the gate latch.
She moved aside as the gate screeched open.
“I came to help serve food after the funeral,” she said. “Then your aunt sent me out here to watch for you.”
“You look relieved to have found me.”
“It means I can go home now.” Shock crossed her face. “That was insensitive. I’m sorry, after what you’ve been through…”
Franco laughed, both at the expression on her face and delighted by her honesty. It felt good. She had a comforting way about her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Gianna.”
“You live around here?”
“I do, like you.”
“Not for long.”
