Don’t Mind If I Do

“Have a seat,” she said, looking away, half afraid.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, sitting on the bench.

“I’m not sure why you came.”

The silence grew like the gray shroud covering the lake. Immense and bleak.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

“I don’t believe it. Where does forgiveness come from? I can’t find it in me.”

“Not from you. Not from me.”

He laid an Easter lily on her lap.

“Visit his grave with me?”

A breeze sprang up, clean and strong, and she caught at the white lily.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said.

 

Copyright- The Reclining Gentleman
Copyright- The Reclining Gentleman for Friday Fictioneers (Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.wordpress.com)
Flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Word limit: 100. Word count: 100
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24 thoughts on “Don’t Mind If I Do

  1. Lots left to the imagination but it looks like there is hope for her.
    I like your line “The silence grew…” – I can imagine them just sitting for a while not talking, both increasingly aware of the silence until one of them has to speak.

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    1. For some reason park benches always evoke silence for me, where strangers sit and nary a word passes between them though a few inches may separate them.The story, in fact, grew from a contemplation of that silence.

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  2. I have cried more in the last fifteen minutes of reading Friday Fiction pieces than I have in the past four weeks of therapy. Your story included. I loved your use of the element of repetition (it is one of my favorites), especially the positioning. I like that you kept it mostly on dialogue, until that one sentence where “silence grew.” Although it is somewhat vague why they are meeting, until the end, and who “they” are to each other, the loss and regret are discernible. Is it the loss of a child? I may just be projecting on the story (hence, the tears). Beautiful, JanuarysDreamer. Simply, beautiful.

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    1. I am so grateful for your comments. I’m afraid I’m guilty of eating up any and all forms of praise from readers such as yourself as I confess that I was getting teary thinking of the pain of losing a child (you guessed right) in circumstances that seem arbitrary, even capricious. The loss seems more “understandable” psychologically when there is something to blame, but when that’s not the case, the “what if’s” loom large and blame assigned irrationally. In emotional chasms like this in this broken world, only One who truly knows, who has the power to heal hearts can give true hope, the light by which we endure and live.

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  3. Dear January’s Dreamer, I love your story – it’s sad but full of hope too. Very well done. If this is about the loss of a child, I don’t think any words can make it better – only people giving of their time to be near you helps. But, mostly, time passing helps. Great job! Nan 🙂

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  4. Dear January’sDreamer,

    I like your take on the prompt. I see an empathetic man sitting next to a grieving widower who sees in him the man who will replace the husband whose grave they’re going to visit. Whatever the story, the story was well written. I like that it is open to interpretation. Well done.

    Aloha,

    Doug

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