Three-Minute Fiction

May 19, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and, finally, decided to walk through the door. We didn't talk about her, after she left. It was as though her absence, painted gray against the vacated chair, took on a permanence of its own. A relic of her being that prevented any discussion, any mention, of her lack.

May 19, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. The sticky Georgia heat almost drove her back onto the worn motel carpeting. Back into hesitancy. But Annie reached across the threshold and pulled the door shut with unaccustomed intention.

May 17, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. As simple as that. The only memory I have of her is the book, always holding the book. No one knows where she went, or if they do, they don't want to tell me.

May 17, 2012 "She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door." This moment would now be frozen in time. Her head still swayed and her eyes still clouded with tears. Her mind swirled with a million thoughts as she shivered with the gravity of what had just occurred.

May 13, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. Had Ellen been a less sentimental person, she would have left the revolver as well, but it had been with her since the beginning, and she found it a comfort.

May 6, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. The door slapped behind her like applause cut short. Herman had broken the hinge; the door was cheap anyway and it matched the rest of the trailer, painted the color of old mayonnaise specked with pepper.

May 13, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. She cast her gaze upon the scene outside the window; the rhythmic swaying of the zombies transfixed her. As she watched, their number seemed to grow. They were an expanding mass of unfocused aggression.

May 6, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. The light in the waiting room had cast a slight green, cold buzz but here the tones were warmer: wood paneling, one small lamp with an amber shade, low shadows.

April 29, 2012 She closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. Not through the porch, she walked through the kitchen and down the steps, stepped into the shade of the pines. Hummingbirds flirting by the window shot away.