May is Short Story Month and in celebration I am holding a Flash Fiction contest on this site.

This first entry by Adam D. Richardson, kicks off the contest. Thank you, Adam, for your submission, and for going first.

“The Kick”

by

Adam D. Richardson

“Recognize the situation!” he screamed at his wife. The power lines across the street attracted him and reminded him of a subtle and fragile strength he had over absolutely nothing. His breathing reverberated in his ears and became the only thing he could hear as she spoke. She became a silent shouting face, merely responding to his instigation. But he remembered to breathe. Staring at his toes, propped up on the wall, he noticed he had let his toenails grow far too long, and also that his feet pressed neatly against the stucco. He thought she was in front of him, but she was standing beside him and he hadn’t noticed. He turned and looked at the shouting face and remembered that he hadn’t been listening at all; always a few minutes too late.

“Listen,” he etched, “It’s the wrong time. Neither of us are ready. We’ve been working towards it, but this is too soon.”

“Then when? What will be different a year from now?”

He knew he couldn’t argue this, and he really didn’t want to. He wanted her to agree with him without any convincing required, without making a case based on legitimacy and rationality. He just wanted her to abort. Even if he didn’t want to.

“Money,” he squeaked, “We have no way of supporting a kid right now. We are both jobless, living on just what we have left. In a year we can have jobs and at least a steady income. At least a fucking job, you know?”

She crossed her arms and cut him loose, putting her hand to her lips and biting her nail. “I didn’t want to mention it, but you seem to forget what I have to go through for this. The psychological and physical pain. Again.”

He looked back at his feet and curled his big toes. HIs prostrate toes formed the stunted hands of a composer. “I haven’t forgotten that at all. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I want to have kids, babe, but this is not the right time. We have no jobs, no income, and I don’t want to bring a kid into this world without preparing. We should at least have some kind of income!”

She dropped down on the stool and her tears followed her. “I know you’re right, but I just… it makes me sad.”

His toes inverted as he stood up and went to her. He curled his fingers around her shoulder. “It’s the wise choice, babe.”

She hicced and laid her head down on the table, weeping.

“It’s the wise choice,” he kicked.

Comments and feedback are welcome and remember that there is still plenty of time to submit your own story. Send manuscripts to Somedamnfool88@gmail.com