Saturday, 13 June 2026

'Nothing to speak of' by Jude Higgins

 On her way back from the shops, she tripped over nothing, and fell flat on the pavement.  A young man wearing shorts, despite the autumn chill, stopped to help. He squatted down and asked if she was okay.

’Think so,’ she said, attempting to get up. He hoisted her to her feet. 

‘My gran used to have lots of falls,’ he said, kindly.” Still went out though.’

‘I didn’t “have a fall’, I fell,' she said . He looked baffled. ‘I was an English teacher,’ she explained.

‘Cool,’ he said. He collected up the vegetables that had spilled on to the pavement and put them in her bag. She leaned against a  garden wall to catch her breath.

His arm was  tattooed  with the message ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.’ He saw her looking. She used to know the rest of that prayer once.  Something to do with courage and wisdom. 

‘Life’s hard  isn’t it?’ she said.

 He nodded. ’Any damage done?’

She patted her knee where a dark stain had spread though the denim. 

‘Just a graze,’ she said, although her hand smarted and her legs felt wobbly. ‘Nothing to speak of.’ 

‘You take care, lady.’  He strode off, texting, not looking where he was going. 

He’s not afraid of “having a fall”’, she thought.

A  glossy heritage tomato she’d bought as a treat still lay in the gutter.. She couldn’t risk bending down to pick it up.  But the sight of it lying there, next to an empty crisp packet, made her want to cry.



Jude Higgins' is a widely published flash fiction writer, whose collection Clearly Defined Clouds was published in 2024. She founded Bath Flash Fiction Award and is Director of Flash Fiction Festivals UK and the short short fiction press, Ad Hoc Fiction. judehiggins.com

1 comment:

'New Shores' by Alex Grehy

I wake up on this beach the day after my retirement party.  I reach for my last memories - the fizz of cheap prosecco and the hubbub of my c...