a flash-fiction short story by Jeremy C Kester
Part of Free Fiction Fridays
She rested the paper between her fingertips. It felt as though it had weight to it, as though the ink used to created the letters and subsequent words gave it significant heft. Power could be found in words that gave them this weight, that could strike through a heart and vanquish a life. She shielded herself against it, hardening her heart so that no blade could pierce through its exterior.
“Is it really over?” she found herself asking aloud as though another were there to hear the question.
She was alone.
Only the still air and her own voice was there to accompany her.
As she absorbed the words like paper does to ink, she found blood around her heart. The exterior could hardly bear the assault.
Slowly, she let the paper down onto the table before her. It felt impossible to do so, like somehow by doing so she was accepting her fate. Like the words on the paper, the possibilities felt like they were unreal, too heavy to exist. But they were only words, right? Right. Only words. Words that cut through the thickest armor, through the calmest emotions.
And she wrote them.
She was the one to end it, to write the words that would cut through the other’s heart as well as her own. It was over because she chose it to be. The words had weight because she gave them weight.
She wondered next if she had the strength to give the letter to the intended. Could she transfer that weight from paper to the other? She did not know how, but she would find that strength.
Short story written by Jeremy C Kester
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