By Cameron Wooley
My backpack spilled open and everything I owned clattered across the floor. My favorite mug shattered on impact.
I scrambled to gather the pieces before the dog could cut his mouth, and I told myself I wouldn’t miss him; I pushed his thoughtless, drooling face away.
“We can fix it,” said Liza, eyes red but frown resolute. She had decided it was fixable. She had decided that it was hers to decide.
“There are too many pieces,” I replied, tossing them into the bin.
I carried my bag to the car. I continued to lie to myself about missing the dog.
A very perceptive and thoughtful piece. More unsaid than said, the mark of a someone who is a fine writer. Kudos.
I enjoyed this story in itself and for the wider story it suggests.
Nice story. What’s not said says so much? I particularly like how she lies to herself about missing the dog.
I appreciate the depth of the double-entendre here. It makes the story very relatable in the understated way only microfiction can accomplish.
Beautiful story. It conveyed that feeling of moving away perfectly.
Missing the dog was a great way to end the story.