Friday Flash Fiction: My Goodbye

I chewed the end of my pencil. I’d never been one for writing letters.

“I’m sorry this has to end.” I frowned; rubbed it out. “I’m sorry things have to end this way.”

I bit my lip. That would have to do.

“I want you to know that I’ll never forget you.”

I sighed. Goodbyes were the worst. I drained my glass of liquid courage.

“I hope there are no hard feelings.”

I gazed out across the street. A pair of lovers strolled by, arms entwined. I wanted to yell at them; to let them know their love was fleeting and naïve and fated to end.

“I am returning my key,” I wrote carefully.

Trudging along the road, the sullen dusk was at my back. I glanced at the envelope once more. “Active Life Gym, 259 North Street.” I closed my eyes one final time. And I mailed my goodbye.

(150 words)

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Image from Pixabay © Pezibear 2016

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