“Why her”

Oliver entered the room and looked around. It was as he remembered. As he had left it.
Nothing was out of place. Nothing, except her.

She was gone.

Gone and not coming back.

It should have been over after today. Oliver should have felt better after today. But he didn’t.

He didn’t feel better.

She was in the ground but he still didn’t feel better. She was buried and Oliver still couldn’t accept that she was gone.

Couldn’t accept it. Didn’t want to accept it.

He needed to see her again. Talk to her again.

She couldn’t be gone.

He couldn’t understand why it had been her on that day. Why the man in the other car had walked away without a scratch while she would never leave hers.

Why did it have to be her?

Oliver sat in the now lonely living room and stared at the pictures of her. He looked at the pictures of the two of them together and wept because she was gone.

The pictures where the only memory of her he had left.

She’d been so happy.

Why did it have to be her? Why was she the one to be taken that day and not one of the other drivers who drove down that street on that day?

Why her?

Oliver didn’t want to look anymore. Didn’t want to look at the pictures of her.

He couldn’t stay in the house. The house they’d built together.

He didn’t want to live in a place which represented a dream that would now never become a reality.

He got up from the couch and left.

Why did it have to be her?


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Categories: flash fictionTags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

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