Flash Fiction / Phone Booth Confession
The large wings of a pale cream moth beat frantically against the ugly orange light of the phone booth. The glow of the cubicle beckons me from the snow covered bench where I’m waiting to catch my bus home. It’s been nothing short of a long and lonely night.
The plastic doors moan softly, a sound that closely mimics disgust, as if they know what comes next.
I brace my hands against the walls looking at the metal contraption, surrounded by the heat of my whiskey soaked breath and the Sharpied scrawlings of lousy teenage vandals. I can feel the tickle of insect legs across my finger. I wave my hand and I can hear the hum of wings begin again.
I dig deep inside my pockets and bring up a hand full of mixed change. It’s frigid against my skin and I realize that I don’t feel cold but I’m shivering. The coins rattle slightly.
There, shining in the palm of my hand amongst the group of lesser value, sits my only quarter. In this state I’m in, there is no clearer sign. I jam the piece into the money slot and pick up the black plastic receiver. I wipe it quickly with my shirt sleeve before I put it to my ear. The dial tone plays a concert as it waits for my next move.
The braille feels odd against my icy fingers as I input your number. I get your answering machine and curse. I don’t know quite what I’m saying but I know I’m mumbling something of an apology for the drunk dial. I can feel tears starting before I really know why.
I’m telling you how much it hurts to be without you. I’m sobbing, choking on each inhale which is being blocked by erratic exhales. I’m begging you to answer your phone, pleading with the silence from your end. I’m making sure you know where I am and what state I’m in. I want to make you feel sorry for me. I need you now. I’m praying you’ll acknowledge this phone booth confession.
I drop the phone and fall to the ground. I wrap my arms around my knees. I scream and fold into myself.
It’s been quite some time, I’m not sure how long but the dangling phone line is barking at me to hang up. I feel the moth land on my head, and I wave it away. It lands on the door of the booth, so I place my foot against the door and gently push it open. It flies into the night.
I look up and see my bus pull away from the bench where I am supposed to be waiting. It’s gone now and I can see your car parked where it stood just seconds ago. I can see you, and now I know that tonight, I’m going to be okay.
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I was not expecting a happy ending on that one, good job. I can relate if only i didn’t drink til i black out. It an excellent peice of flash fiction, keep writing
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