Flash Fiction: Walking In the Dark

The tiny screen glowed. It was the only light in the room, the house, for that matter. It seemed appropriate to keep the lights off. Everything had gone dark. Horrors streamed past her glazed eyes — inhumanity, violence to the earth, greed, hatred, lies.

His key scraped the lock and the door opened.

“Why are the lights out?” he said.

“Because darkness is covering the country.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.”

“How can this be happening?”

“You need to get a grip.” He set his laptop bag on the coffee table and circled the room, turning on lights. He glared at her. “You’re crying? None of this has anything to do with us.”

“It has everything to do with us.” She stood and shoved the phone into her pocket. She walked to the door and extended the handle on her suitcase, sitting in the shadows on its tiny wheels. She opened the door, crossed the threshold, and shut the door behind her.

Through the closed windows, she heard him, shouting with the rage of a cornered animal. “Your mosque isn’t going to protect you! Only I can do that!”

She continued walking.

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