Carter had broken up with him last night, again, this time for real. Same old story: “You’re too in the closet, too immature, too boring.” The last one was new. That one hurt.
Ben grabbed his work bag and scrutinized himself in the mirror. Pasty skin, thick-rimmed glasses, hollow eyes.
He dropped the bag, took the keys, and drove off.
When his boss started wondering where he was, Ben was already speeding up the serpentines on the coast. Windows down, the sea breeze in his hair.
He hit the gas and turned sharp right.
Originally submitted to the NYC Midnight 2025 100-word microfiction challenge.
Provided prompt: [Genre: Drama | Action: taking a day off | Word: wonder]
Tiny Tales 
Leave a comment