Flash Fiction
THINGS WORTH SAVING By Foster Trecost
It felt like I was in the wrong house, one that looked like mine, but belonged to someone else. When she found me drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, her eyes glazed over. It was my house all right, but I was there at a time when I shouldn’t have been. “Don’t cry,” I said. “How much do we have?” She always cut to what mattered most and in that moment, what mattered most was money. She didn’t care how I lost my job. I stood in our kitchen at nine-thirty in the morning and that was enough. The how didn’t really matter. “Some,” I answered, but saving money is hard when there isn’t any extra. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something.” I didn’t know how long it would take, but I said it anyway. “And then?” She was angry but not at me. “I’ll find something,” I said again, matching my tone to hers. “Where are they?” “Out back.” I walked to the window and envied the innocence. “Who are the others?”
Atticus Review│Get Lit: Round 1
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