Flash Fiction: Call Me Mary

My parents were sitting pensively in their respective wingback chairs in our overly decorated living room. As we finished dinner, I had asked if we could have a chat tonight, which I never do. They were nervous. As was I. Fiddling with the beaded tassels of the throw pillow on the sofa, I cleared my…

Flash Fiction: The Way, Way Back

Gabe’s mouth was ringed red from the strawberries he’d been mashing into his face, his fingers stained the same color. But he was happy. Carla was not nearly as jubilant, more concerned about the one dot of juice that had tarnished the lace on her denim dress that I had tried to convince her not…