Being Left Behind

As she crafted the infinitely thin insect wings, she told me with gusto: “I’m tired of being hungry, so I’m leaving home. And I’ll have sex, of course, and join the army.”

A final stitch went in, thin silver needle exiting one last time. When the thread snapped, the dragonfly stirred; its wings hummed; and it was gone. We watched it ascend.

“There’s nothing keeping me here anymore.”


Flash fiction. Published in Red Wheelbarrow, Vol. 22, 2018.

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