Flash Fiction

At the crossroads

By

Comments Off 05 September 2012

On his commute to the office he always turned right at the intersection. If he went straight, the road would lead to a suburb. He’s lived in the city for five years and he’s never gone straight. He only knows that the road becomes narrow and paved and the district hospital is somewhere out there. It would be of no use to drive straight at the intersection. He didn’t know anybody there and never would. It would be no different from other suburbs. And he’d have to find a place to make a U-turn to get back on his route. The loss of time would be embarrassing. He was a serious man. He fed his family and found fulfillment in his job. He had no time to lose when he was driving to the office, and on the way home he was lucky if there was no traffic jam. He had no time for detours. Honestly, he was curious to feel the vibration the pavement would cause. But he knew he would never muster the courage to go straight.

And so he began to despise himself.

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Author Info

This post was written by who has written 1 posts on Atticus Review.

Rupprecht Mayer lives in Shanghai. He translates Chinese literature into German and writes short prose, mostly in German, sometimes in English. His vignettes have appeared in Postcard Shorts, Washington Square Review, Ninth Letter and elsewhere.

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