Flash Fiction, The Fine Line

A Short Walk

The bird that soars high up in the clear blue sky. The white lines painted in the ocean above us all, by the metal birds that are native to many countries now. The intense peachy glow over there above and just behind those tall buildings. Declining, taking its warmth with it. The leafless trees that show us the skeleton’s of nature. The insects singing out loud from in amongst the bushes. It’s a beautiful day. I wish I wasn’t so cold. Maybe I would enjoy it.

It might be the cold. It might be the fact that I miss him. But that’s a secret, and no ones meant to know that. Not even me. To admit such things is to accept weakness. No. It’s definitely the cold. But it might be the music. It’s that kind of music that plays loud but softly in your head phones. The music that you hear but you don’t listen to, because for some reason, everytime it is on your thoughts are louder than it. For some reason I have hit repeat 4 times. But what are your thoughts?

Think positive. That has been my life motto for the last few days. But the moment one thing looks bad, inside your mind, everything else looks just as bad too, doesn’t it. Even if its not.
Well I’m almost home now, and I don’t feel like being this honest anymore. And my thumbs are frozen. So I’ll finish this walk with this loud, silent song playing, repeated for the fifth time, and my ever louder thoughts talking to me.

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