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Wildflower

We lie there, her and I, for quite some time. We lie there among the grass and the wildflowers, as the late afternoon sun drops lower and lower until it disappears altogether behind the rolling hills of the horizon. The grass tickles our cheeks and our noses as her slight chin rests stiffly on my chest. Her skin is cool yet comforting and her eyes stare upwards towards the purple gradient of the sky. Her beauty is amplified in this moment, as the setting sun glitters off her auburn ringlets and she rises and falls with each one of my breaths.

We lie there, her and I, as the purple gradient turns navy and the dry heat tapers off to nothing. We lie there until all goes black.

Morning soon arrives rude as ever, bringing with it the snapping of twigs and the low chatter of dog walkers. I arise yet still she lies, noiseless and with glassy eyes unmoving as I run and run, through the leaves and the brambles and away from her and the grass and the wildflowers.


Flash Fiction by Heather Anderson

Published in Summer 2017

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