Three very short stories

The Car

Jed drove. He cranked the front window down on the driver's side and focused on the road ahead, enjoying the heat reflecting off the street, the wind in his hair as he drove with one arm out the window, hanging partway down the side of his car. He turned up the music and sang along, not caring if he sounded off key, not caring whether he sang the right words, not caring about anything except how good the heat and the breeze and the steering wheel felt on his face, in his hands. It was just that kind of day.

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“Don’t you understand? I’m not coming back. You’re a freak. Every person in this gang is a freak.”

His every word hit Sara like a physical blow. She felt her eyes filling with tears. She’d never felt this much pain from anyone. It just kept coming, washing over her in waves like a tsunami.

Derek shook her hand from his shoulder and bowed his head low. She saw his shoulders shake and moved instinctively to touch him again, to help him, to take away his pain-

“Stop it!” he cried and her hand jerked back. “Don’t touch me. You don’t deserve this life, Sara. You don’t deserve my pain. Let me carry it on my own.”

The wetness on her cheeks betrayed the tears. “I can help.” Sara repeated the words, over and over. “I can help. I can.”

“I know you can.” Derek’s voice was still shaking, but the tone was calmer as he strove for patience. “My friend just died, okay? Give me some space.”

Sara took a step back, feeling like trash. It was hard enough knowing someone she cared about felt such anguish. It was harder still only being allowed to watch him suffer. She watched him, torn, as he cried silently into his sleeve and then pulled himself together.

He grabbed his jacket and took a step toward the door, avoiding eye contact. “I’m leaving.”

She watched as he pulled on the worn leather covering as he walked away. When he got to the door, he hesitated and looked back. “Thank you. I’m sorry about what I said. You’re not a freak. You just don’t have a life of your own. Take care of yourself, Sara.”

The door opened and closed. Sara watched him go. She could not bring herself to track his leaving through the window. She sat slowly, then rested her head on her knees and wept.

Summer Day

Jan stared off into the distance, gaze roving, not really seeing anything her eyes touched. It had been years since she'd last been here, her hometown. The sun felt good on her back, soaking through her shirt like mist. A light breeze cooled her skin and swept the hair from her eyes. She gazed straight ahead from the front step of the train station entrance, looking and yet not looking at the street, bustling with afternoon activity and noise. Nothing could touch her in the place where she was. Nothing, ever again.