All she could remember was the stink – that’s what she told the WPC with the baggy face and the red-rimmed eyes.
Urine – sharp enough to prickle her nose. And paint fumes – aerosol paint. How did she know it was aerosol paint? She shrugged. She just knew.
She wanted to get clean, to wash the smell from her sticky skin, but the WPC said no, not yet sweet. So she sat in the paper suit that crinkled when she breathed and thought of her rabbit Snickers. Of how his eyes had been rimmed with red before he went to the vet and never came home.
Word Shamble 
Hey Lynn, what a lovely flash fiction story, which feels complete and satisfying, even though on first reading I wasn’t completely sure I knew what was going on. I read again and felt this same completeness incompleteness. I guess (hope) that is the effect you were aiming for.
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Thanks so much Kelvin. Yes, you’re right, there’s only ever a flavour of what’s happened in a flash piece, hints at the before and what might come after, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks. Thanks so much for reading 🙂
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Hi Lynn, sorry, I forgot to say, it doesn’t matter that I feel this way, to me me, because I enjoyed your flash fiction story. Just so vivd.
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Ah, thank you 🙂
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