Pittsboro Writers' Morning Out fifth annual ultra flash fiction contest.
The 2014 winner is Glenn Cassidy
One Breath at a Time
Craig Smith
could speak but one breath at a time; a word of two or more breaths and his
mouth failed him. When asked where he
went to school, he’d learned to say “George Wash Carve” like some kind of hip
slang, like you’d feel dumb to let on the style was new to you.
Of course,
the next words from his mouth would show his ruse. He could not say the name of his street, his
state, or his town. Could not say his
age.
As Craig
searched for a seat at the mall food court one day, tray in hand, none seemed
free at first. Then his eyes found the
girl in blue in the back, fine as could be.
Her eyes met his, then fled, as tense and full of fear as Craig’s own. He took a deep breath, walked up to her, and
braved the flaw in his speech.
“Is this
seat free?”
“Yes,” said
the girl.
As they
ate, sans words, both smiled. Could she
feel the same spark he did?
“I’m Craig
Smith.” He feared she’d have a name too
long, a name he’d trip on each time he tried to say it. “What’s your name?”
“Kate
Cole.”
Craig’s
mouth turned up at the ends.
“What
school do you go to?” he asked.
Kate’s eyes
sagged like the weight of a ton of tears. “Mart Luth King Jun.”
Craig felt
for her, for her speech flaw, shared the shame he knew stabbed at her
heart. Yet a glow warmed in Craig’s
chest, a light lit in his eyes, and he smiled.
“Mine’s
George Wash Carve,” Craig beamed.
Kate’s eyes
at last rose from the floor and dared to face his. And she beamed back.
Craig was
in love.
