I’m going to experiment with posting 100-word stories for a while. If you’d like to post your own 100-word story that riffs on this one, please do so in a comment. Other types of comments are always welcome, too.

In Her Pocket
By Laura McHale Holland

4382254384_0bf25714e3_mOn Thursday afternoons, she runs through the woods, your letters tucked in her back pocket. She can’t stop herself. Each week, she runs, since the day you left for Kalamazoo, or was it Denver? She is tired sometimes, bitten, rain soaked. But she runs. You were a long salt water drink, she says, shying from memories of breakfasts shared, films watched, because they dig too deep, like the scratch of a raccoon. Under shimmering leaves, she leaps for branches, but maybe she is just on her treadmill, passing time, a handkerchief in her pocket, no letters anywhere, not at all.

Photo, Wind In Her Hair, by Tomas Banisauskas, Creative Commons license.

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