February 10, 2022
Flash Fiction: Dandelion
Mr. Jameson strolled along the familiar winding path to see his lover, despite the constant ache in his bones. Once he reached her, he lowered down to the morning dew-soaked grass, and he set to work. He tidied her plot, pulling weeds from the gravestone’s base, but left a single dandelion sprouting from the earth. He could see her dancing around the yard, tiny yellow suns stuck in her short, springy hair as she smiled in utter joy. Spinning her at arm’s length, the love of his life laughed in a voice that sounded like home. Just as he leaned to kiss her soft, dark cheek, she faded from view. Mr. Jameson rose from the ground with a tear in his eye and the words, “I’ll see you next week, dear” on his lips.
—Serenity Block, Flash Fiction Editor