Sins: The Kiss
Her words were always crisp in the last lights of the dusk. A few of us broke them and kept under our tongues. They melted late into the night as we lingered in the tastes of first adolescence.
After her father died, she became unusually silent. We concluded, therefore, nothing she said were her own words.
We wanted to rinse our mouths.
After her father died, she became unusually silent. We concluded, therefore, nothing she said were her own words.
We wanted to rinse our mouths.
Labels: adolescence, dusk, fiction, flash fiction, kiss, short story, silence, sin, story, surreal, tongue