'Some Kind of Sunset' by Rachel Smith

The sun comes out at the end of the day, wedged between low cloud and horizon.

Fucken typical, she says. Come, he says.

Through the hole he cut in the back fence into a park of sorts. Patchy grass ringed by warehouses, a stockpile of gravel in one corner.

He sits on the grass, head tilted back into the sun. She swats at small biting flies. He kisses her wrist, her mouth. The sun sprays a mess of colour.

And it works out like this, she thinks. A grass stained butt and a bracelet of bites. Some kind of happiness.

 

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First published in Micro Madness, New Zealand National Flash Fiction Day, 2020.