Flash Fiction

SHAFTED
Pearl was too old for this shit. But, paychecks were scarce since the mines shuttered.
She’d told the hikers before they left to stay on the trail.
But, they were busy fidgeting on their phones.
“You got Wi-Fi?” one had the nerve to ask.
You’re in the woods, stupid, Pearl had thought.
At dusk, she got the ropes from her Forest Service truck and hiked up the mountain. The discarded cigarettes and condoms told her where to look.
She lowered her ropes down into her old work site, Shaft Number Nine. The first to be hauled up—Mr. ‘You got Wi-Fi?’
A.M. McKnight, July 2019

Tells & Tics
Her left eye twitched whenever she lied about money.
Ten years of marriage before I learned that tell.
When I asked about the affair, she stared with a tilt of her head.
Another two years before I learned that tell. “Silly fool,” it meant.
In court, she cried and her lips quivered. She knew I always gave in to her tears.
We held hands as she asked for forgiveness.
I felt my right eye twitch when I said I’d post bail.
I landed in the Caymans on her birthday. Who’s the fool now? I thought after reading: Actress Sentenced for Embezzling from Lover.
A.M. McKnight, June 2019

More A.M. McKnight Flash Fiction found at: https://101words.org/?s=mcknight