Best of Flash Fiction, May 2012

We linger for a few more minutes. But there's nothing I can say or do to change his mind; he's choosing his wife over me, and there's no sense in trying to stop that — it wouldn't even be right, ethically, to ask him to leave her for me. "You need to go now." I'm choking on my words, throat constricted and tight from crying.

"Okay."

"You can always change your mind," I sob, cracking my heart open one last time "Always. Even in ten years."

"It's really tempting, Samantha. It's really tempting to plan for ten years." He almost smiles.

Christopher stands to go, and out of ingrained Midwestern politeness, I get up and walk him to the door. As the lock slides into place, I wish it hadn't. Suddenly, I want him back here, breaking my heart again and again. Because now that the door is closed, I know it's really over. And while it means the agony of this moment, of all those tough and unhappy weeks, is over, it means everything else is over, too. The crying is done, but so is the laughter. The distance, but also the moments of perfect intimacy. The broken promises, but also the hope of a better tomorrow. •

Lyle Rosdahl, a writer living in San Antonio, edits the Flash Fiction blog and monthly Best Of in print for the Current. He created, facilitates, and participates in Postcard Fiction Collaborative, a monthly flash fiction response to a photo. You can see more of his work, including photos, paintings and writing, at lylerosdahl.com.