The purposes of this conversation
There’s a cool little subgenre of writing called flash fiction, where people try to write impactful stories with only a handful of words.
The most famous one is a short six-word story that’s frequently attributed to Ernest Hemingway, which goes:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
There’s so much sadness, pain, and loss in just six words.
Thought about that the other day as I cleaned out some more of Alison’s things.
Every year or so, I toss some things of hers that I finally make peace with.
In this latest episode, found three shirts that Alison and I were excited to wear one day; grey shirts with a graphic of a black bear on the chest, each one with a single word on the bear:
Papa
Mama
Baby
Think we got them as a gift. Don’t remember.
We never got to try them on.
Everything went to shit too fast.
The Firecracker, because she saw how distressed I was and is just awesome, gave them away for me.
I was in my head all day and all night.
Alison never got to wear anything like that.
I never got to wear anything like that.
And now, we never will.
Her: Are you ok?
Me: For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am.
Her: But you’re not?
Me: (deep breath) For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am. I just need a sec.
Her: (nodding) I’ll take care of these this for you and drop them off at Goodwill.
Me: Thank you.
Location: the basement of my brain (again)
Mood: waiting to be okay (again)
Music: This feeling never leaves me (Spotify)
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