Edwin realizes too late that the door to the roof has locked behind him. He pats his pockets; no, his phone is still on the nightstand. And Lenore, such a deep sleeper, won’t notice him gone until morning.
What a stupid idea, coming up here to steal some night-blooming jasmine for Lenore. She thinks he’s a romantic, only ever coming to this garden after dusk, and a workaholic who never leaves his windowless home office. He should have told her his secret.
Hundreds of years, and no regrets until now.
Dawn is coming. The scent of jasmine fills the air.
Linda M. Bayley is a writer living on the Canadian Shield. Her work has recently appeared in voidspace zine, Five Minutes, BULL, Short Circuit, FlashFlood Journal, Underbelly Press, Stanchion, Does It Have Pockets, Roi Fainéant, Frazzled Lit, and Tiny Sparks Everywhere, the National Flash Fiction Day 2024 Anthology. Find her on Twitter and Bluesky @lmbayley.
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