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from Flash Fiction Collection by Jo Hawk

Copyright © 2019–2022 Jo Hawk

A Storm Named Waterloo

I cracked an eyelid to face my accuser. One o’clock. I should have been up hours ago, and yet…

The tapping at the window urged me to forsake my warm cocoon. I stumbled across the room and opened the blinds. The day mocked me. Rain splatted on the pane. Foggy condensation distorted my view of the miserable world.

At least it's not snowing, I sighed.

Minutes ebb into eons, dulling the achingly familiar pain as I tried to reach past the emptiness.

At my end, I abandoned ...


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