FLASH FICTION:THE PAGE was as white as a prayer; the kitchen table strewn with crumbs of breakfast, crumbs of morning, its surface scored and tally taken.
He was trying to write her a letter, maybe a poem, but all he could think of was one word, picked and held, still fresh, upon the page: blackberries. He had foraged for space in the rusting dusk of autumn. Lies had been told without a word spoken and now they were growing, fat and black on the branches.
Constellations of berries festooned the verges, falling tangled in the broken brambles of his palms.
He picked without thinking yet gathering his thoughts, till his hat was heaving, stained with juice, till the sky was stained with the dimming of the day.
The smell of the berries filled the air, seeped into the night, steeped in her worries where the shadows spilled deep. But still he stayed, picking his moment.
He thought of losing her; what it would mean. He opened the thought out like a box, examined all its sides, till he was locked within and she without. Apart from him. A part of him.
He held his breath, till his lungs screamed, and dreamed she was breathing for him, somewhere on the other side of the night.
He ran through the darkness of the lanes, as black as lack, as black as the pupil of his eye. He ran back home to her, his legs pounding, his heart pounding, his hat clasped tight against his chest. He couldn’t see the ground beneath his feet. He couldn’t see a thing ahead. But he ran.
He remembered how those blackberries tasted, so lush in their bitter beauty.
He folded the page, neatly in half, and ran a thumb along the crease. He kissed the envelope closed, as she had kissed his tears and opened his eyes, the softest surprise to have kissed his years.
He rose from the table, the letter white with hope in his hand, the hat now haggard on his head. The blood from the berries had formed a band around its base, a band around his heart, the stains now vainly holding the tender threads together.
He could hold it back no longer. It was time for the day to begin.
Flash fiction will be a regular item in The Irish Times. E-mail a story of no more than 500 words to flashfiction@irishtimes.com
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