Thank you again to MadisonWoods for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at
For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Here is my contribution:
I Still Love You
“It wasn’t a mistake. I loved her.”
“This is your apology? You think these words you’re shitting will make me stay?”
“I love you, too. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I want you to understand me. Then, maybe, you can accept me.”
“Fuck you. And, fuck that whore.”
“Yes. That is your position. Love, try to understand mine.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your position.”
“I’ll go then.”
“Good riddance. Shit. Get down from there.”
“Come down. Stop!”
I still love you.
Stripped out was the roof top gathering of friends, of peers and those who you couldn’t care less about, who fed upon another’s misfortune and pain, hangers-on who lacked original thought, who contributed nothing but parasitic gorging. A trio played Blue Moon. City lights and a smattering of celestial bodies graced the brisk evening. Champagne flowed and accompanied the feathered masks and formal dress. And their private discourse became ever so public.
The railing was low, cold. He climbed with specific intent, to grasp her in the last moment, jerk her into his reality, to carry her with him, homeward bound. Almost like the way he bore her across the threshold into wedded bliss some years before.
He missed, he flailed, he failed to counter the mystery of gravity.
Spectators gasped, some even marveled, and only one heard the scream. I still love you.