Five Sentence Fiction Breakfast

 Light streamed through the window, casting its beam across the crisp white linen as Stacey awoke, stretching out her legs until they touched the resting limb beside her, rumbles beginning to fill her empty tummy.  

Her mind wandered back to just a few hours earlier when she first laid eyes on Aaron across the bar where he worked, generously topping up her drink between snatched conversations.

He stirred, wearing a small smile as he opened his eyes, seeing Stacey grinning back but his smile quickly evaporated as he jumped from the bed like it was on fire, already attempting to strip it, sending Stacey and her words of breakfast tumbling.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a panicked voice, “you weren’t meant to spend the whole night! My girlfriend will be back from work in half an hour."

Written for http://lilliemcferrin.com/ for Five Sentence Fiction, the prompt 'breakfast' and based on a true story.

Thursday Threads Then I Can Help You

It's been a while since I contributed to Thursday Threads over at Siobhan Muir's The Weird, the Wild and the Wicked. Actually, it's been a while since I submitted any flash fiction. But, slowly getting back into the groove and really hope you like this piece where the phrase 'then I can help you' has to be included somewhere in the story. And no more than 250 words. . . . . 

Her heart wasn’t just broken; it was shattered into sharp splinters of bitterness, puncturing all her memories with a thick, black slick of revenge. Molly had shed no more tears after finding Daniel tangled up with a mystery brunette. No more swollen, red face, no more wallowing on the sofa with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s in her Disney pjs.  

A passing comment had given her a new direction, a new focus, a new zeal for life. Meeting ‘H’ for the third time, Molly took extra care with her makeup, new hair and a more modern, sophisticated wardrobe that celebrated her figure. Her time was now spent pondering ‘H’ and what it stood for as well as how her friend knew him in the first place. He wasn’t one for giving information as he sat and listened to Molly’s tale, nodding occasionally before declaring, “then I can help you,” once Molly handed over the manila envelope across the sticky pub table. His large, tattooed hand reached out, not checking the contents before sliding it inside his deep leather pocket. It unnerved Molly.

“You won’t see me again, you won’t try to find me,” he said gruffly as he stood, towering above her.

“How will I know it’s done?” Molly’s ruby lips trembled.

“You’ll know.” He opened the battered pub door before turning back, “A word of advice; get rid of the gangster’s moll lippy; you’re supposed to be heartbroken, not putting out a hit.”

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