He and She: A Flash Fiction

As she turned away and walked past after the fight, he started calculating the days: with the speed her steps hurried and died in the lounge.


Their mobile were put to rest beyond a shadow of doubt for almost a week or perhaps they were secluded to grow their hearts further to accommodate a grown-up love.

‘Idiot, Panagal park. 5.30PM today’ was the message he woke-up to the day. Message inboxed at 1.20AM. Bliss sticking thick in his face just didn’t wash away until the evening.


She pushed her head down abruptly, as he saw her coming towards the park-chair he rested on, like a sunflower dressed-up elegantly and her hair swaying and rocking like petals around her face. She killed him alive one more time.

She planked down on the other end of the park-chair he was resting on, trying to pull smile off her face, gazing not at him. He looked at her, got closer, pulled his cheek and kissed himself, laying his eyes on her. Her grin grew wider. Still gazing away from him. He pulled his cheek and kissed it again, with a brighter noise. Bursting out the dammed-up joy, her petals covered its face, flower-holding-stem swayed back and forth. She pulled her cheek, kissed herself seeing him with a bit more grownup love and cravelled in to his arms tight with tears of happiness.