The bride-to-be sat beside me, as her cackling ladies-in-pink continue down the train searching for seats. I smile politely as we exchange pleasantries.
I want quiet, she wants chat.
I nod and smile in pain. She prattles joyfully on and on and on about her life, her fiancé and their future together. . .
The train jolts, she touches her hair.
The penny drops and she notices my change.
She smiles with her mouth, not her eyes now before she whispers
“I think it’s important to talk of living when you’re dying”
The train keeps moving.
She never says another word.
First attempted at Microfiction (around 100 words). Slightly embarrassed posting this and to be honest not entirely happy with it but i'm trying to stop myself from being my own worst enemy with the writing and make myself post stuff. Hopefully shall be a weekly event (and improve as i go along).