Past Contempt (flash fiction)

‘Am I?’

‘Only ten minutes.’ I said.  Then she apologised, and I said I forgave her, and we both pretended it didn’t matter any more and set off.

Halfway round the headline, I stopped to get a stone out my shoe and she kept walking.  ‘Did I?’ she said and I said that she had got at least half a mile and how could she not have noticed.  Then she apologised, and I said I forgave her, and we discussed how we had put it behind us and ate our sandwiches.

It wasn’t until we were well off track and she got out the map and I said I knew exactly where we were and she didn’t have to.  ‘Don’t I?’ she said and I said that she was past contempt.

That silent walk home in the moonlight was the nicest bit of our wedding day.

*first published in the 2010 issue of The Binnacle

Author: Viccy

I write prose, experiment with digital and collaborate with interesting people. View all posts by Viccy