Microfiction: Tears

Ronovan’s Friday Fiction prompt is ‘A sad friend.’ It isn’t just the word ‘sad’ here that’s open to interpretation.

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The girl was sitting on her own in the cafeteria. That in itself was an exploit, as the place was pretty full. But she had a space around her, a cordon sanitaire, as if her misery was infectious. Her hair was dangling in her untouched sandwich, but she hadn’t noticed. Probably didn’t care. DJ nudged me and nodded in her direction.

“Sad. But, you know.”

“Know what? Isn’t she supposed to be your girlfriend?”

“Was. And she’s still sad. Every way you spell it.”

“It’s the word friend you need to sort out,” I said and shrugged off the hand he had slid around my waist. He looked at me as if I’d just slapped him, his eyes furious, his lips parted, as his brain struggled to come up with a smart retort. That could take a long time, and I was in a hurry.

“I don’t like you that way, DJ, never have. And now, I don’t like you any way at all.”

The girl’s shoulders trembled. Tears were dripping onto the lettuce and tomato.

“You think I give a flying f—”

She raised her head sharply, and it twisted as if she had radar, towards the sound of DJ’s voice. Her breath caught, and her eyes opened wide and soulful. No anger. No hatred. Just hope. I snorted and headed for the door before the big reconciliation scene got underway and I had a violent urge to throw up.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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