#ThursdayTales coming to you a day too late.

Flash fiction is an umbrella term used to describe any fictional work of extreme brevity, including the Six-Word Story, 140-character stories, also known as twitterature, the dribble (50 words), the drabble (100 words), and sudden fiction (750 words)

“You really don’t think I am going to do that, do you?”
She threw her head back and laughed. I didn’t like the sound of it. It had a tad too much of bitterness to it. Not she. She couldn’t be bitter. Not my Saudamini. She was a happy person. She always shared everything with me. Why was she being difficult today, refusing to tell me what was bothering her, the forlorn expression I had caught on my arrival? But never mind. Whatever the matter, it has always been easy to win her affection back, to cajole her into forgiving me.
“That’s all in the past, Prasad.”
It was as if she had read my thoughts. No, she couldn’t have. She is Saudamini. Innocent. Sweet. Trusting. Also a little slow. She couldn’t read minds even if taught. I hide so much from her. Lie to her. Manipulate her. Make her dance to my tunes. No, that’s too harsh, perhaps. She always took my word for things. Yes, that is it, she was simply easy to manage.
“Let’s go away for the weekend, Mini.”
I tried a different tactic. My voice was husky with desire. All the love and hope and remorse I felt was reflected in it for her to feast. I looked at her with what she playfully called my ‘irresistible puppy eyes’. She looked at me for a long time, head tilted to one side, a smile playing on her face. Then she dragged her eyes away to gaze at the distant mountains. It was a smile I could not decipher and it made me nervous. My power to turn her around and make her fall helplessly into my arms, to be kissed and comforted with apologies and promises, seemed not to be working.
“You don’t have the power anymore, Prasad.”
Her voice was soft and yet I heard her clearly. It was the second time in a few minutes that it felt like she had read my thoughts. Suddenly she looked at me and smiled disarmingly. Her hand reached out and ruffled my hair.
“Be well.”
She walked away then without looking back. I was left standing there with only the faint scent of jasmines she left behind.

© Shail Mohan 2019