Flash Fiction, Singles


He loves me

I keep telling myself I’m over Henry, but I just don’t have the energy to dance tonight.

He smiles and doesn’t bother to ask permission before sliding into the seat beside me. I don’t notice… Until he passes my refilled Martini across the bar, clinking it with his own.

He loves me not

We talk for hours, mostly nonsense. For a moment, everything is perfect; because I know I won’t remember his name in the morning.


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