Cold Feet

A foray into fictional tragedy

Author’s note: I wrote this short story as part of a class exercise. The assignment involved randomly selecting two photos from a stack of photos from an antique store — backside up, so you didn’t know what you were getting — and to write a short piece in response. This was the result.

Boy
“Do it! Lifetime opportunity in avocados!”
“You are just what they need.”
“Look son, she’s holding you back.”
“High time you stop fooling yourself.”
“Get your head out your ass.”
“Leave now – it’s the right move.”

Girl
“Merry Christmas, don’t you like it?”
“So soft, warm: try it on!”
“Oh, it looks great on you.”
“Aren’t you glad he’s gone anyway?”
“Yeah, good riddance – coat looks great!”
“Let’s get a picture with it!”

Boy
Back slapping, smiling, suits, ties, laughter.
“We’re gonna make bank, young man –
Life’s great in the sunshine state.”

Behind baggy eyes: emptiness without you.
Behind forced grins: indentured suffocating me.
Under medicating money promise: flatlined hope.

Girl
Posed: resigned arm behind mom’s back.
“Look happy together – smile now, cheese! –
Isn’t this wonderful? Isn’t it grand?”

Behind blinking eyes: noone sees me.
Behind attempted smile: never good enough.
Under heavy constricting coat: clipped wings.

Boy
Should I call her? Yes! No.
No. She’s better off this way.
Buck up. I’m strong. Rock. Island.
But… no, they would kill me.
She’s probably happy now: free – soaring.

“What you dreamin’? Back to work!”

Girl
Outside, near fence: I could run!
Fly to Florida; be with him.
But duty calls - why God, why?
He’s probably happy now: flourishing – growing.
Sunk in snow, my cold feet.

“What you dreamin’? Get back inside!”