Author notes:


The setting sun stained the white paper crimson as Chloe wrote Roger’s name, and when she snapped the lighter, the orange flame was barely visible.

Letting the burning paper fall into the ashtray, she realised part of her grief for Roger had been carried away the last time she did this. She had no longer felt like an insect frozen in amber, disconnected from everyone.

But the connection had been broken. The line cut. A door had closed almost as soon as it had opened.

Swallowing hard, she pulled the notepad back towards her, and carefully wrote a second name.

Rate story:
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)

One Review

  1. Barbi
    Posted December 18, 2014 at 8:57 pm | Permalink

    Oh my god this broke my heart 🙁

Write a Review

Your email is never published nor shared.