Falling In. Falling Out.

Winner Retreat West Micro Fiction Prize
This story was nominated for the Best British/Irish Flash Fiction 2019/20 (BIFFY 50)

If I stay, will it change? That question’s doing wheelies in my brain.

Tonight, every night, his snore keeps rhythm with our old dogs. We don’t touch much anymore. Don’t reach out to each other in the long liquorice nights.

When we talk about it, words get stuck down my throat. His too, I hear them, then he gets up and makes us tea. If I leave, I’ll miss him. It’s not about love.

It’s morning. The kettle’s on. He pops bread in the toaster. He’ll spread one with Marmite and one with jam.

What would it feel like to forget that?