I don’t move when the sun disappears behind the clouds. I don’t move when I see the white puffs turning gray. I don’t move when I hear the clap of thunder. I don’t even move when I feel the raindrops on my head, trickling down my cheeks like tears.… more
Writer: Swetha Amit
Selling Hotdogs
FLASH FICTION by Swetha AmitAs another gust of wind blows, I imagine them locked in a passionate embrace. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. I run my tongue over my lips. The bitter taste of regret and envy continues to swirl inside my mouth.… more
