travel

Sitting Still (Friday Flash Fiction)

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They won’t find me out here. Not like the last time. Or the time before that. And was there a time before that? My memory is going so I can’t be sure.

I can remember one thing, though, and that’s my name. I’ll tell you it in a minute if you don’t rush off.

There goes another aeroplane, slicing up the sky. I don’t understand all this travel. You can go a long way by sitting still, the world’s turning so fast.

I mean, look at that sky. Nothing in it now but clouds, all twisting and turning and changing around. Doesn’t look the same from one second to the next. No need to move an inch to see something new.

They want to take me away but I won’t let them. They won’t find me out here.

My name’s Bruce, by the way.


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