No Goodbyes by Kim Hutchinson

She arrives early. The movers are there. The truck is already packed.

He sits on the porch, smoking and talking with the movers. Where are you going? he asks them.

They only know the city.

She walks through the house she’d bought for them years ago. The filth and the stench of mould nearly make her retch. Dead fleas line the windowsills, the dressers, the floors.

The dog, her dog, is nowhere to be found.

In the walled garden, a shaft of sunlight illuminates the young rosebush at the base of the birdbath. It glows a cheery pale pink. They are the first roses to have survived a winter.

The sight is ironically beautiful.

He watches from the porch as she follows the truck out of the driveway.

She turns onto the road and doesn’t look back.


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Filed under Kim Hutchinson

4 responses to “No Goodbyes by Kim Hutchinson

  1. What a moment you’ve captured here, Kim. The details make it all the more poignant and real.

  2. You captured a complete story arc in just one scene. So many motivations and feelings. And beyond all that, I’m wondering what happened to the dog.

    Simply wonderful.

  3. Kim, so much unsaid and only imagined — why does the house reek? where is the dog? where is she going? and why alone? Beautifully wrought, but I never expect less from you. Peace…

  4. Pingback: Week #19 – The Last Time « 52|250 A Year of Flash

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