By Joe Bogle
Asleep on the sofa, she turns over, unperturbed. The dog hair explodes in the sunbeam.
I can’t, I won’t, you can’t expect me to wake her. I’m not much for coffee or goodbyes. I disappear.
Later I come home, is she gone? Did I think about her all day? Do I even remember her name?
Olivia…
The bed is made. The apartment is mine. Rover and I both stare out of the window. The sun bleeds through neighboring walls. I think we both dream… We dream of Olivia…if that is her name. But it doesn’t matter.
She is already gone.
i liked this description “The dog hair explodes in the sunbeam.” But, I have to say I can’t fill in the gaps with this one. Who was Olivia, some stray woman he took in? If a wife or lover, why was she sleeping on the couch?
Too many blanks for 101 words. Needs filling out.
Good visuals but I’m a bit confused about what happened.
For me this is beautifully written. Personally, I prefer a story with too little information than too much. I fill the gaps for myself.
A little fuzzy. I want more!
I loved this line: “The dog hair explodes in the sunbeam.”
I can’t say that I “got” everything that was happening here, but perhaps it wasn’t intended to be “gotten.” I liked the mood you set with your language, and a short experimental work, I think this succeeded. It feels like one of those pieces that’s a puzzle begging to be solved 🙂