By Jack Field
The hospital letter said the appointment was to ‘rule things out.’
When they called his name, she kissed his cold hand and let him go. He chatted to the nurse, turned and waved goodbye.
The appointments, the scans, the blood tests — the relentless certainty of events. She read to him and said she would look after the garden and their son was coming to stay.
She was only gone a minute when he finally woke up, looked across at the empty chair to see a dent in the cushion where her bottom had been and closed his eyes forever.
“I write to hear myself think! I am busy working on my second novel, but whenever I need to shout something, I write a short story or flash fiction to stay connected to the outside world.” – the author