A short, short story called, Finally

     When he told me truth, I was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
     I couldn't take my eyes off his feet. They were bare; the knuckles of his toes knarled, the hairs; thick and black. I wished I was sitting down. The strength in my knees was gone, but not enough to let me slide to the floor. 

     Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his; the pale blue disks looked back at me. They usually told me so much, those eyes, they always spoke to me in soft whispers. I searched for a smile, for the ends of his mouth to turn up in a roar of laughter, but there was nothing. 

     So, he didn't love me. That was why he'd been behaving like a stranger; a shadow in the house, in our bed. He'd fallen out of love with me. It was so unromantic, so understated. Me, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Him, in his floral shorts after coming in from the garden. 

     I wonder what made him tell me, then. If it was the sun blasting from the sky that made him finally run for cover, to find me, coming down from getting dressed into a light green dress that was soft on my new, round belly.

Flash Fiction!

Annie

Running along the footpath, Annie noticed that the day was hot and sticky. Her top was light pink and she knew that soon, bright fuchsia circles would decorate her underarms. She was late.

As she walked into the office, her boss looked up, then at his watch. He hated late arrivals. She dashed to her desk, and as her computer loaded she began listening to voice mail messages, noting them down. When the morning had passed, Annie went to the loo to put some makeup on. Rummaging through her bag, she came across a box. She had forgotten the pregnancy test she'd bought the day before, in a rash moment after waiting in the queue at the chemist, when she had typically worked herself up. She put the box back in her bag and made herself up.

When she had finished, Annie was going to go back to her desk, but after looking at her mobile and seeing that she had ten minutes before the meeting, she went into the loo. Once more, she took the box out of her bag, and, now took out the white object. She read that the clincher of the deal was one line versus no line. She pulled her skirt up and her tights and knickers down, and, balancing carefully, began to pee onto the stick, trying her best to aim for the tiny window. A trickle of wee landed on her hand, and she giggled at the ridiculous scene in which she was starring. When she had done the deed for long enough, she sat back on the toilet and waited.

After two minutes, she glanced at the window. She saw one, tiny blue line. One line versus none, she said to herself, as she reached for the box on the floor.