Flash Fiction


I would have searched for you in any lifetime.



There are approximately 1,013,900 words in the English language, but I could never find the right ones to explain this to you. To explain how lighter hearts are good for heavy minds. And loose shoes are bad for those who have tendency to run away. I cannot explain how I feel the world, for that can only be understood if you feel it with me. I do not know if [he] exists. Perhaps I have missed him in another life. Maybe I knew him but our end came quick because there was another in sight. I see pieces of him in my lover’s eyes and in strangers of passing. But they are not him. I cannot replace what I do not yet know.


Where are you going, where have you been?

This is a story about love.




Lila and James meet at work and fall in love. They both have stimulating and challenging jobs. When the time is right they buy a house and have two children. They enjoy a fulfilling sex life and their children do well in school and they have long lasting and enjoyable friendships. They retire at the right age and enjoy their last years together. Lila and James die eventually.


Lila meets James at work and falls in love with him. She’s seeing Daniel though. But Daniel doesn’t ride a motorcycle or smell of Chanel de bleu. Daniel doesn’t make her breathless or listen to rock bands. But Lila is insecure and so she stays with Daniel. They marry eventually. Lila doesn’t want children but Daniel does so she gives in because she doesn’t want to disappoint him. Lila gets pregnant but miscarries and is told by the doctors “there won’t be anymore children.” Devastated, Daniel distances himself from Lila and cheats on her with numerous women. Lila finds out because Daniel is sloppy but says nothing because she is too weak to ask for a divorce. They stay together for thirty years and Daniel eventually dies because of his long standing heart problems. Lila goes home after the funeral and runs hot water for a bath. She takes a lethal combination of Daniel’s heart medication and gets in the bath. A neighbor finds her body eventually and the coroner deems the cause or her death as inconclusive. At her funeral her friend Mary tells people she “died of a broken heart.”


Lila is seventeen when she meets Taylor. She thinks she is in love because Taylor calls her “baby girl” and holds her hand. Taylor drives his fathers BMW when he comes to pick her up and comes to her house with white roses. One day Taylor says he wants to have sex with Lila. Lila is scared but gives in because she believes he is ‘the one.’ They have sex and later he drops her off. Lila cries when she is alone because she believes she made a terrible mistake. Taylor breaks things off with Lila a week later. Hysterical, Lila slits her wrists and attempts to write a note confessing her love for Taylor but is not able to finish it before she dies. Lila never meets James.


Lila is going to school in New York City when she meets Brian. They go to a bar and Brian falls in love with her. He tells her how beautiful she is but that puts her off because she wants someone to fall in love with her words. They do not see each other again. Lila has a successful career and an expensive Manhattan loft. She has many relationships but in the end she walks away from all of them. On her way to work one day, she realizes she left some papers at home and misses the Brooklyn subway. James was on that train. She retires early and enjoys many hobbies and travels to Asia. Years later she wanders into a bar and a man comes and sits next to her. It is Brian. He asks her is she found love. She says no and he says the same. They share a drink and they go their separate ways. Lila wanders through the streets of Manhattan, tears streaming down her face because she knows she will die never being loved the way she wants to be.


Inspired by a story by Mary Atwood

I don’t want your opinion

This is to you, boy in my english class:

Screw you. Yes, screw you.

There’s nothing I hate more than ignorance and you are the epitome of it. Just because you don’t “understand” what I write doesn’t mean it doesn’t make sense. Just because my writing is more advanced than you can understand doesn’t make it garbage. It just makes you an ignorant critic.
If you really think that because you don’t understand a piece of writing it deems it “nonsense” than you’re never going to grow as an academic or a human for that matter. And yes, penchant is a real word and it’s a pity you don’t have the soul in you to appreciate it.

I’ll never be too proud or too insecure to receive criticism, but I will never accept blantant stupidity and just general lack of intelligence as a marker for the worth of my writing. If I had your attitude I would never be able to appreciate the works of Michel Foucault or Rene Descartes because I would have deemed it “garbage” from the beginning.

Frankly, I pity you. You are missing so much of the world and everything beautiful it has to offer with your persistant ignorance. I sincerley hope you do everyone a favor and refrain from giving advice or criticism because you aren’t qualified to give it.

So no, I don’t want your opinion.


When did you stop loving me?

I wonder when you stopped loving me. I wonder when and I wonder how.

I remember the times when I was just me, and you were just you.
At what age did my dresses become too short? At what age did my legs and the shape of my body become so sexual to you?

At what age did your father tell you that real boys don’t cry?

At what age did you become the predator and me the prey?

I miss you. I miss us.

Because not long ago I was just a girl and you were just a boy, and we were both human.

I knew you then and I knew you when, but I really know you now.