Friday Fictioneers – Breaking Up

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - Breaking up sequence 200212

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I’m afraid I’ve cheated this week, writing three separate stories for the prompt. I’ve put them together because they’re on a single theme, and form a sequence. So that’s how I’ve cheated – I’ve written a 300 word story in disguise! I hope you’ll all forgive me!

 

Breaking up, breaking down

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

I clamp my jaw, shake my head.

“Better a clean break,” I manage.

I shudder uncontrollably as I walk to the station to catch the train home. It’s full. I huddle in my seat and weep, heedless of stares.

What more could I have done to keep him?

My phone chimes. A text message. I can’t read it for tears.

As the train pulls into Manchester my crying stops, and I feel the ice crackling and crystallising around my heart.

Breaking up, breaking out

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

I look at him and remember what he’s said in the past.

‘I find commitment difficult.’

‘It was a fling – it didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t like you seeing other men.’

‘I don’t like you dressing like that – it makes you look like a tart.’

“Friends? Forget it!” I say, and stalk out.

Outdoors, the wind is icy, but my overcoat keeps me warm. I feel energised. Let Robert play his mind games; I shan’t be joining in!

Breaking up, breaking through

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

Prefer her! When’s he had a chance to find out? What a rat! I punch him, hard, on the jaw, then gasp. ‘What have I done?’ I think, horrified.

We look at each other.

Suddenly, he grins, then laughs, a great belly laugh.

“Your face!” he hoots.

“I’m really sorry,” I stammer.

“It’s my fault. I was being outrageous. I’m sorry.”

We sit down, side by side, and talk. The ice between us melts as we understand each other better.

Inlinkz – click here to join in!