By Ekta R. Garg
The waiter delivered their drinks, then left.
Jack put the divorce papers next to Cassie’s silverware; she averted her gaze from them.
“I wish…” she began, her words disappearing with the carbonation of her soda.
He just took a gulp of his wine.
Her gaze returned, begging forgiveness.
Jack wavered. A glance at the documents reminded him. Her choice; her body. She never mentioned it, never gave him a chance to support her.
He hardened his gaze. She signed and pushed back from the table, leaving her drink untouched. He sipped his wine, and his hand trembled.
Her soda went flat.
Nice little narrative that points out that some endings – never – end.
Excellent. I’m a huge fan of the drabble – exactly 100 words – so this style appeals to me as well. Judicious use of each and every word.
What a lovely story. Just enough leaving us thirsting for more !
Congrats. Ekta, it was great.
Superb expression. Sensory words created lively images that we could view and feel. Very exciting, Ekta.
Poignant
You are now a FLASH author??