Her words kept replaying over and over in his head, “I’m sorry but I can’t see you anymore.” What the hell did that mean? He thought as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Can’t see me anymore? What’s wrong with me? He shook his head. No, what’s wrong with her?
He parked his car and entered his apartment and the first thing he saw were his keyboard and guitar, sheet music lay on top of the keys. In three large steps, he crossed the room, single-handedly grabbed the sheet music, flung them across the room, and screamed.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.