Archives for Flash Fiction

2013-06-18 12.56.22


He had skin the color of a caramel latte, which was what he ordered. His polo shirt was pale pink. The chunky planes of his brow and jaw fought with sharp, delicate cheekbones. He stood on the sticky floor of Costa del Bean with a wary grace and was quick to slide away if anyone got too close. A thin ponytail dropped to his waist and slid like a snake across his back when he turned his head toward the door.

A little girl entered, all of two or three years old. She tottered through the door unchaperoned.
Pink Shirt dropped his coffee and ran. Thirty seconds later, I wished I’d done the same.
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