Rain tapped the windows while Adam packed, trembling. I watched from the kitchen, clutching a cold mug and the last of my patience. For a year he had shared my bed, my life, and never once said he loved me. He apologized again, blaming a frosty family that never spoke affection.
“You were always silent when moments needed words,” I whispered.
Tears filled his eyes. “Claire, I do love you.”
The words hit too late, like flowers brought to a grave.
“I found someone else who says it.”
He stood, shattered, in the open doorway as the rain swallowed him whole.
This was originally my 990-word flash story that I cut 90% out of and you see what’s left. It can be done.
This is such a beautiful piece, thank you. I love “The words hit too late, like flowers to a grave.” Perfect.
Beautiful. I love the emotional impact of the last line.
The significant moments of life stories I like very much.
‘words hit too late, like flowers brought to a grave ‘ -what a great line!
Really enjoyed this and how interesting to know it was so much longer to start with! This is my favourite line: “I watched from the kitchen, clutching a cold mug and the last of my patience.”