“She’s gone,” the left hand whispered. It spasmed violently and then rested on the rough hospital sheet.
I’m sitting on a worn, sun warmed park bench. My back presses against the sturdy wood. turquoise koi pond sparkles at my feet. I watch the large white and orange goldfish swim in lazy loops. I smell lavender and rosemary on the soft breeze. Peacefully, I look down on the space where my hands used to be. I turn my face up to the sun.
“Yes, she’s gone for good,” the right hand replied, patting the left gently.
The end
twisted short short fiction & poetry
circularstaircase 