Gut Punch

Published by

Thomas Charles Henry

on

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

We left the bar to buy vapes, which we shared by the pier; stepping back every time a wave crashed over the seawall.

“I can’t believe Danny didn’t come,” he said. “Some brother he is.”

“Danny and I broke up.” I showed him my phone.

“Oh my god! He dumped you by text? And you still came? That’s…” (Psychotic? Unhinged?) “…really nice of you.”

“I couldn’t miss your birthday.”

“Danny’s an idiot! You deserve so much better: you’re smart, kind, lovely…”

I’m none of those things, I thought, leaning in for the kiss. Revenge tasted like BlueRazzCherry and sea spray.

Written in response to Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-word writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Come and play along!

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