Long Day
Flash Fiction Story
by J.S. O'Keefe
Bill motions me to an imaginary telescope. “Look, the fields, the rivers, every human settlement, they’re broken. Time’s meandering and all’s random. People set out to do something, go somewhere, but there’s no finish line.”
I picture Bill back home twenty years ago, sipping yerba mate, theorizing about life, relationships. Emotional man, for him every goodbye was the final chapter, every return a resurrection.
Three hours delay; finally we get on the train, crowded like a can of sardines.
Old and young on the train, derelicts in rags next to smartly dressed refined men, they’re all muttering. Self-talk, mainly, the usual rumors about raids by masked paramilitary men, terrorists bombing churches and retirement homes, bread lines in big cities, etc.
Arriving, a rush of anxiety hits me. Something’s amiss, people avoid eye contact, empty storefronts, no kids on the playgrounds. What if the rumors are true, even only one of them?
We shake hands and go separate ways. Bill’s body language indicates we’ll never see each other again. Now, for the first time, I believe it.
I trek to the community center. The hallway is filled with people; they’re standing still, all tense. I imagine them scurrying for cover.
I duck into the entertainment room. It’s got a widescreen TV, probably the only widescreen in town.
Bill’s words echo through me till the game comes on. Offense is the best defense, says the announcer. It doesn’t mean anything.
I can tell, the frozen crowd outside is right.
J.S. O’Keefe has published several short stories, creative essays and poems in print and online literary magazines. More at his website: https://www.szjohnny.net
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