Old Flame At A Party
“Long time no see,” she says tipsily, introducing me to a ‘Rick.’ There’s tension between them, something’s not quite right.
Though remaining a looker, she doesn’t turn heads anymore.
I was too dull for her then, with my monogamy, my love of poetry. Chatting, I mention I still like T.S. Eliot, and have a family.
“Oh, settled down, have we?” she says, her tongue as sharp as ever, yet I sense an envy beneath the sarcasm.
“Well, I’m not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be,” I quote, a certain satisfaction in my self-deprecation, when bidding these lost souls goodnight.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Ian studied English Literature at Oxford University many years ago. He has had short stories published in various genres in Schlock! Webzine, Schlock! Bi-Monthly, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, and in anthologies by Horrified Press and Rogue Planet Press. He is an Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association.
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