I mistake a life full of empty kisses, spotting my lips. The merry-go-round of affairs.

The letters stop coming ending in xxx’s and ooo’s. You should visit, the kids are growing.

Then I bed one bastard too many. He sights my heart like hunting quail. I tremble in tall grass.

3 Things About This Micro-fiction

1. This story started with the ironic statement “a life full of empty kisses.”
2. This isn’t necessarily a cautionary tale.
3. Perhaps she has found a truer sort of love that frightens her. Or not.