Finished. Flash Fiction.

This always happened with Blake. He promised the moon and then he’d go and fuck it up some how. Kim looked at her phone again, he didn’t even have the decency to send her a text. No, it would go exactly as it always had, she would sit here alone like a jackass until Blake rushed in, anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour and a half late. He’d apologise profusely, give her some reasons like work or traffic and a promise that it wouldn’t happen again, even though they both knew it would. Kim drained the last few mouthfuls of wine from her glass, well she wasn’t going to wait around for Blake any more. If he couldn’t be bothered to be on time, she couldn’t be bothered to stay. She opened her handbag and took out her purse, she quickly counted out some money and left. As she navigated her way through the tables she half expected Blake to come rushing in, that would be a laugh, meeting him mid-storm out. She reached the door and stepped outside.

Kim started walking, her place wasn’t far, At least she hadn’t just waited, she let him do this to her every single time. She had been so proud of herself when she kicked him out of the apartment but she let him weasel his way back in, like she always did. Why did she always act so stupid around him? If someone told her even half the stuff Blake had done she’d have told them to dump him, but there was just something about him that always pulled her back. Well not this time, this time she was done. There would be no coming back from this, leaving her sitting there alone for half an hour, no response to her texts or phone calls and it was already supposed to be an apology lunch. She knew she’d been right to try and start off slow and he couldn’t even handle a simple, quick meal. At least the restaurant hadn’t been too busy so there weren’t many people there to see her being stood up. Her phone started ringing, Kim fished it from her handbag and looked at the screen, she rolled her eyes as she saw Blake’s name. No, fuck him. She silenced her phone and put it back into her bag. He didn’t care enough then, she didn’t care enough now. It was his turn to suffer and wait. She stopped walking, he’d probably come to her apartment next and when he did she’d probably let him in, after all she always had before. No, it would be better to go somewhere else, maybe get a drink or two. Surely one of the girls would be around to get a drink. She grabbed her phone again and sent a few texts, then she set off for the bar.

Three drinks later she was still alone. Everyone had been busy with work, Emma promised to come as soon as she could, but that could still be an hour or two away. She looked around the bar, at least she wasn’t the only one here drinking alone. She looked at her phone, Blake hadn’t rang or texted in over an hour now, surely it was safe to go home again. Kim felt a surge of anger, safe? No, who cared if he was there or not, she wouldn’t be chased from her own home. Kim grabbed her bag and left the bar.

As the elevator doors opened the reveal her hallway she expected to see Blake skulking around hear her door, looking all forlorn and pitiful but the hall was empty. “Good.”, her voice seemed too loud in the quiet. She walked towards her door, ignoring the small pang of disappointment. Part of her was looking forward to a confrontation, she could rip open all the old sores and let the emotional pus drain away. She let herself into her apartment, she stripped off her coat and let her bag fall to the floor. She stepped into the sitting room and froze. On the table was a large bouquet of flowers in a glass vase. She hadn’t had flowers, or a vase, when she had left the apartment this morning. She walked towards the flowers and picked up the small card. They were from Blake. She shook her head, she was such a moron, how could she forget she’d given him a key? The message was short, “I fucked up. Please, just one more chance. I love you.” she picked up the vase and walked to the bin, she threw the flowers in, then she emptied the vase of water and threw it away too. No. He wouldn’t change her mind. She was done. Done forever.


About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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