Flash Fiction: Closet

Closing the broom closet door, I escape.

I hear a girl’s whisper in the dark. “Don’t scream, I’m hiding too.”

“Bullies?” I ask.

“Mean girls,” she answers.

Standing, stomachs churning with frisson, our fingers brush and interlock at our sides.

“It’s ok,” we say together.



Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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