• Fiction,  flash fiction

    Nothing is Missing

    I didn’t miss him. I was busy, he was busy. Life rolled on. I didn’t miss him in my heart or my throat or my gut or in my head the way I missed him before. Everything was normal. Time passed as expected.  Not missing him made me wonder; do I even need him anymore? Did I ever? When I thought of him, which was often, but out of habit, I pondered this lack of missing, this lack of sadness. Maybe he will quietly slip away and I will not notice. Things change. People grow apart. Maybe that is what this is. I thought of all the people I once loved…