Fiction by Diana Rosen

He bought me a gold metal necklace with garish three-inch letters, ME, to wear if I needed attention. After the years of the unsolvable equation of us, plus joys, minus anger, multiplied over the years, we parted – – – yet checked in after earthquakes, raging storms, the calamity of age. Following his first stroke, he wouldn’t let me see him. “Gimpy foot,” he said. I wanted to kiss it, wash away the losses. A mutual friend expressed condolences. I hadn’t heard. Guess no one checked his phone. No one knew I loved him most.

Diana Rosen is a poet, flash writer, and essayist living in Los Angeles where she’s a content provider on honey, spices, tea and coffee by day and a right-brain writer at all other times. Her first full-length book of flash and poetry, HIGH STAKES & EXPECTATIONS, is available from thetinypublisher.com. To read more of her work, please visit www.authory.com/dianarosen.

Photo by Andie Gómez-Acebo on Unsplash