We don’t call it “hate-watching,” but we aren’t teens tuning in to beam smashed hearts into the laptop screen. Our bus driver’s sister sobs a eulogy to full pews. Wait, “a real sweetie pie?” Huh. We nicknamed Donna “the banshee” for her pissy hollering. “Fun aunt?” “Friendliest patient?” We never even knew Donna had cancer cells knocking around in those huge boobs. We learn steroids made her “weirdly ragey.” In her headshot, Donna’s coppery bangs are smooth, glossy as our nails. We only ever saw her hair askew in the wind, her open window so much bigger than our own.
Adele Gallogly is a writer and editor new to/freshly entranced by the magic of flash fiction. Recently, her work was long-listed in SmokeLong Quarterly’s March Micro Marathon Competition and recognized with an honorable mention in NYC Midnight's Microfiction Challenge. She lives in Ontario, Canada.
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