What’s this? Another post, so soon?
One thing that I’m going for now is a bit more consistency in my posts. It might not be the same length of a post I might do for Huffington Post or a flash fiction contest. With all of my current projects and responsibilities, I don’t really have enough time left over for that. But if you’re interested in little injections of what’s floating around my head every fortnight or so, I think I can maintain that at a modest level of quality.
This is flash fiction, written for a challenge a couple of months ago. The prompt was ‘Jealousy.’ Stuff like this could be more frequent additions to this blog, feel free to leave challenges or prompts in the comments and I’ll see what I can whip up for another update!
I’ll take one more opportunity to let you know about my eBook release of No Legacy Between The Stars with Trese Brothers Games. Check out the interview on their blog along with links to the various markets where the story is for sale.
Read on for the story!
by Brett Caron
It’s not fair that I can’t have this anymore. I try. She doesn’t get it.
I know you do. I see your post, Facebook knowing better than I do how important you still are to me. I click to like it on reflex, and then take it back in a sudden panic. But I know you can see the notification hanging red and ominous on your screen, a setting sun.
He comments, words that used to mean something to both of us. I guess he gets it - maybe you explained it to him. The next iteration, another season with a slightly different cast that no one is supposed to notice.
This isn’t about you. It’s about what I want, for once. And even though I know that’s awful and selfish, you were awful and selfish to me too. I deserve it. If I can’t use it anymore, neither should you.
Doesn’t it feel fake with him?
Don’t you even think about me anymore?
This is the little couplet we whispered into each other’s ears a thousand times. Naked and alone, cocooned in your warm and rumpled blankets. Out in the world, brushing up against each other on the sidewalk. Your fingers through mine.
It’s threaded through you and me. A woven carpet of us. A memory in every syllable. Our thing.
How dare you.
Sometimes I think about you fucking him and running your fingers down his back like you used to with me, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Your body never belonged to me. You never belonged to me.
This is more important than that – you can share an orgasm with almost anyone, but not everybody gets the joke.
It was ours. Now it’s yours. You win the game. Still your favourite part?