Honie Briggs

It is no sob story. If it’s sad, it’s only because it’s true and shouldn’t be. Everything seemed normal, like the full measure of emptiness rumbling in her stomach. She would like to run out the door as fast as she could. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was there. She didn’t know it was a problem, coming at life like she had, in such a hurry to feel alive. No one ever told her what she was supposed to know. She pretended she was invisible. She became invisible, hollow, floating like soot drafting upward, silently toward the sun.

*****

That is my 100 word story. Thanks to the Friday Fictioneers for teaching me the art of making every word count. Oh, and the joy of editing. I’m still learning, always learning. If you have an extra minute, there’s more to this story. Ready? Here goes:

She was never more herself than when standing still. If she moved, someone else would take her place; take the kindness that would have belonged to her if she’d been worthy. Unworthiness became her shadow, fully formed as the sun sank. Her dreams sank with it. When you lose as many times as she has, it doesn’t become easier. It becomes who you are. When you lose, you take it. You move it inside, where there’s room. When you lose, there is nothing else. Loss keeps you company so you’re never alone. You feel it. Forever.

She misses those dreams of feeling alive. They didn’t last long, but she misses them, their colors floating past her on their way to someplace she always wanted to go.

That’s what happens when you know how to lose.