Friday Flash Fiction


“That your dog?” He laughed at the dirty hound licking crumbs and gravel off the sidewalk next to the outdoor café. She could see its ribs; dried blood stuck to a jagged scratch along its flank.

The only dog here is this date, she thought.

“Yes,” she said as she stood up. “Yes, it is.”

She grabbed his half-pound Buster Burger before walking away.

She hoped the dog would enjoy it, would let her take him home.

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