By Ben Murigu
The sky, beautiful, is pinking at the edges. But none of that matters since he can’t feel his damn legs. The engine, not so far behind, is still running. Petrol and copper and perfume—a woman’s. She’s pretty, petite, crouched over him, screaming, begging him not to go.
He needs to stay—really, genuinely wants to—except his fleeing soul can’t seem to find its way back into his body. He thinks about his mother, her smiling face at breakfast that morning, how he’d left without that warm hug. Such stupidity, cruelty on such an ordinary morning.
His last, no doubt.
Wow! So vivid. Congrats.
Well done!
You’re really good at this!
Tragic, splendidly written story.
Well done
Heart breaking and stunning.
Wonderful and heartbreaking. ?
Love the feel and also the message of this – thank you!