Reverse
She always reminded him of dust. Her memories left drying in the sunrays. Like a host of butterfly wings. A reverse metamorphosis. The second cocoon. Caterpillars crawling on the edge of his dreams. Roaches in the corners. Accumulating dust. The leaves springing back to the tree. The ghosts retaining form. She lingering in her life.
It didn't matter. Whichever way the time flowed, in the end she'd disappear from his life.
It didn't matter. Whichever way the time flowed, in the end she'd disappear from his life.
Labels: cocoon, dust, fiction, flash fiction, love, metamorphosis, short story, story, surreal, surrealism, time