I hang memories from a length of twine suspended above my bed. Some are luminescent like Jamie's warm embrace that time I needed a warm embrace, some pillow-soft like holiday feet in warm sand. Others are resonant, chiming when tickled by draughts, like unrequited love that hums a low E flat. Some are perfectly formed – the days we cycled for miles to share ice cream in liquid sunshine. There are fragments too, vague notions clouded by drink – the night I told you what was bothering me, huddled together on a kerbstone. Your reaction like a deep black ribbon, fluttering, keeps me awake, clouding chances for future memories.
Jon lives in Tooting, South London, from where he has been writing
micro, flash and short stories for the past six years. Pieces have been
published in Shorts Magazine, Fictionette, 10x10, The Centifictionist,
Blink Ink, and Superfast among others.
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