A potent fear lurks behind my composure and smiles as I leave, my neighbors cheering, clapping, calling me a hero. It stretches forth and consumes me little by little through the journey, until I’m fully engulfed by the time I arrive at the hospital.
It’s a long time to hold one’s breath but I can only breathe at work’s end. A little boy in torn clothes stands behind my car, no mask, no gloves, looking dirty. I reach into my bag and offer him some.
‘Mask and glove useless for street, madam. Na house to sleep I need,’ he says.
[Creative Writing Contest] [Flash Fiction] What About the Homeless?
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(This story is my original story, first published as part of the 100 Words of Solitude project and available for sale through the link provided: https://100wordsofsolitude.wordpress.com/100-words-of-solitude/. All rights have since reverted to me.)
A potent fear lurks behind my composure and smiles as I leave, my neighbors cheering, clapping, calling me a hero. It stretches forth and consumes me little by little through the journey, until I’m fully engulfed by the time I arrive at the hospital.
It’s a long time to hold one’s breath but I can only breathe at work’s end. A little boy in torn clothes stands behind my car, no mask, no gloves, looking dirty. I reach into my bag and offer him some.
‘Mask and glove useless for street, madam. Na house to sleep I need,’ he says.