I know it’s only been three weeks but I miss you already. The day you left was the day I lost a big sister. The way you smiled at me, the way you guided and taught me to safely use the machinery, I will never forget the day when you secretly gave me a piece of candy.
You know candy is a luxury good and it’s illegal for us to have any but holding that piece of candy in my hand made me feel rich, like I’m in control instead of someone controlling me. You urged me to take it to the market and sell it for some food or necessities but when the supervisor walked by, I panicked and put the whole thing in my mouth. The candy tasted strange, it was a taste I was not familiar with but I liked it.
Why did you have to go? Was it because of me? Was it because I did something wrong? Are you in trouble? That day when I watched you through the factory window suggested you were, the way your head was lowered and you didn’t look back. Please just tell me you’re okay. Your friend, M.
This is a response for Roger Shipp’s new flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner. We are given the beginning of the sentence and we are to finish the story.
Please note that this is a dystopian story. It’s not real!