I watch you approach me in the produce section, it seems all good stories begin in the produce section. Your eyes are on a pineapple and I’m baffled as I try to look away — your clothes are dirty, shorts and a t-shirt so faded I can’t make out the picture on the front. Your [...]
Archive for the ‘Short Fiction’ Category
When You Were In My Heart
Posted in Flash Fiction, Short Fiction, tagged Becky Sain, fiction, flash fiction, love, Santa, short fiction, understanding on October 17, 2011 | 28 Comments »
The Open Window
Posted in Flash Fiction, Growing Up, Short Fiction, tagged Becky Sain, dreams, fiction, flash fiction, short fiction, summer, wild on October 11, 2011 | 26 Comments »
The field next door is perfectly mowed, I look at it because to me it is the world… my world. The world that keeps me company every summer. In the middle we’ve carved out a baseball field where we play every day. I never worry about being the last one chosen… they all want me [...]
I See…
Posted in Flash Fiction, Short Fiction, tagged Becky Sain, dreams, fiction, flash fiction, hope, love, motherhood, short fiction, Van Morrison on September 29, 2011 | 20 Comments »
I see you… standing there on the corner. A cigarette hanging from your mouth, your fingertips are yellowed by the repulsive habit. Your hair is dirty, there is no color… just the color of alone, empty, left-over. You’re clothes are disheveled. I imagine you sifting through the pile of used clothes, strewn across a cold [...]
The Stop Light
Posted in Short Fiction, tagged Becky Sain, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, homeless on September 17, 2011 | 18 Comments »
I drive past you, every day at the same time… at the same stop light. I drive past you. You’re always looking slightly down, maybe at your feet, maybe at the sidewalk, maybe you want to avoid eye contact with me as much as I want to avoid eye contact with you. You have a [...]
Priorities
Posted in Motherhood, Short Fiction, tagged fiction, lottery, motherhood, short fiction on July 13, 2011 | 20 Comments »
Her brakes squeak loudly as she continually pushes them in the halting traffic. She turns the radio up just a bit so she can pretend she doesn’t hear them as she rests her arm on the rolled down window. It’s hot out. Too hot for the window to be open but running the air conditioner [...]
Symbiosis
Posted in Motherhood, Short Fiction, tagged Becky Sain, fiction, life, money, motherhood on June 28, 2011 | 20 Comments »
The symbiosis between her and the young girl behind the counter is almost complete, again. They know each other far too well now. She watches the young girl count out the money, she see’s the dollar bills neatly in the drawer and realizes why the plexiglass separates them. It would be so easy to reach [...]

