Short Story Sunday: All the Things We Cannot Say

A car hooter sounded just as Derek closed the door. He walked around the desk and sat opposite her, drumming his fingers on his armrest.

"Do you know why I called you here today?"

She swallowed. Her mind became a roundabout of thoughts until she settled on one possibility.

"We are concerned about you, Sarah. Ever since Jack..." He cleared his throat.

"You can say it." Her voice sounded underwater to her. "Ever since Jack died."

Wednesday Write-Up: Dawn (for Mike)

My memory of that day always starts the same way. I usually see it in the bottom of my wine glass, when Luc has left to order more drinks at the bar. In the haze of smoke and the thrum of the music, I go back in time.