Flash Fiction Friday

Green is my heartThe rug was rolled and pushed with the bed up against the far wall. A chest of drawers sat catty-corner the door,  drawers emptied. She hadn’t painted a room since they tried to sell the house after the kids left for school, so she poured the paint into the tray with a too-quick slosh. Dipping the roller she started laying on wide swaths.
The latex stung her nose and made her eyes water. She reached and stretched and bent and dipped. The gray walls disappeared more quickly–and easily–than she had imagined.
“Prickly pear” the paint chip said. She hadn’t bothered with any other paint swatches once she read the name. Just the shade for a fresh start.
A roll up for all the times he’d slept at the office.
Down again for the nasty voice mails.
Another roll for bottles stashed behind the nightstand.
Back again for the smell of Listerine.
“Prickly pear” they called it. Prickly for her heart. Pears–unripe and bitter–for the leaving. And the paint fumes made her eyes tear again, just a little.

[The flash fiction “Green is my heart”, 2017 draft, appeared first on This Is My Symphony.]

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