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Another Minute, Another Hour, Another Day

He remembers the day well; turning fifty; the appearance of a few grey hairs that have crept uninvited into his temples, too many candles to blow out and too little energy. Sitting in his favorite chair, but in no mood to celebrate; the rapid beating of his heart and feelings of trepidation as he tries to catch his breath. The look of concern that flashes across his wife’s face and disappears in the blink of an eye, fleeting as a wisp of smoke; the tenderness with which she strokes his shoulder, kisses his cheek, and whispers in his ear, ‘I love you.’ Telling her the pain is fleeting, there is no reason to be alarmed, it’s probably indigestion, and like always will go away. The ambulance siren that screams a warning as it races through city streets; the whooshing noise of emergency doors as they open and close. Listening to the sound of feet as they pound their way over frequently travelled floors, and up to the side of his stretcher; a chorus of voices who shout his name, tap him on the shoulder, and ask if he can hear them. Praying for the first time in his life as he asks for another minute, another hour and another day.

Flash Fiction by Marjan Sierhuis
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Published in Autumn 2017


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