flash non-fiction
by Ryan Parks
I met her on a train to Philadelphia. We drank together before she got off in Westchester. We got in touch when we were back in Boston. We made plans to see each other. I broke my neck the night before we were meant to meet up. She visited me a week later. We sat on my bed and watched movies and she held my hand. I never saw her again. It was the sweetest relationship I've ever had.
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Author's Note
A memory unembelished.
Other stories by Ryan Parks
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It is, I think, what's beautiful about this form--there isn't enough room for things to go wrong, for missteps in plot or faulty language, characters acting so uncharacteristically (as all people do). There is only the space for the sweetness.*