By Copper Rose
Twenty-seven times he ran her off the road with his tractor while she was walking. Forcing her into the razor-grass in the ditch, the blades cutting into the skin of her legs. Twenty-seven times.
She had been listening to a rumble all afternoon. Finally she went to investigate. She followed the sound through a field and found him, on his tractor, bumping against an oak tree. He was dead but the tractor was still running. She reached for her phone. Then she put it back in her pocket.
Copper Rose’s work has appeared in FlashPoint and Vortexanthologies, Night Garden Journal, Spillwords, Soft Cartel, Who Writes Short Shorts, Flash Flood Journal and is forthcoming in The Crow Literary Journal and issue 39 of Sirens Call.