Flash fiction

First published in Milk Candy Review | April 2026

The only way I can trace the call is if you keep him on the line. That way I can pinpoint his location before the bomb detonates. Ask him questions. Maybe start with: why? People love to talk about themselves. I bet he’s no exception. Soon you’ll be chatting about, I don’t know, your respective high schools and favourite noodle places. Just keep him on the line. You can perform basic tasks as long as the phone never leaves your ear. (Conversation will get easier. You’ll become expert at small talk: the appropriate follow-up questions, the subvocal please go on hums and huhs.) Eventually, one arm will feel more muscular from holding the phone; the other limp, always by your side. Sometimes, you’ll be tempted to hang up. Enough is enough, you’ll think. I don’t want this bomb to go off, but I have to live my life! You’ll then see me gesturing at you, making a kind of pinching and pulling motion with my hands: stretch stretch stretch. So you’ll ask him about his childhood, and whether he believes in god. He’ll answer, and ask you in return. It’ll be easy, intimate. You’d miss him if he wasn’t always there. Sometimes you’ll think you could end the call and his voice would still echo in your head – but don’t hang up! Keep him on the line! Lives are at stake! You’ll tell him what you look like; you’re much older than when the conversation began. He’ll say he can already imagine you from the sound of your voice. A voice that’s changing, now. Harder to hear than it used to be, and sometimes you find yourself grasping blindly for the right word. He laughs: me too! You’ve heard all each other’s stories, but there’s pleasure in what’s familiar. (I’ll no longer be in the room, watching and listening. I died years ago. My mission lives on in you.) One night, you’ll be in bed, lying sideways – it’s the only position that doesn’t hurt your hips – and cradling the phone. You’ll say: I love you. He’ll say: I love you too. Then, gently, you’ll ask: Do you want to talk about the bomb? But you’ll realise you can’t hear him breathing anymore. It’d been a constant, like the tides, for so long. You’ll sit up in bed and lower your phone. You ear will feel hot and naked without it. In the distance, a small explosion.

Read a short interview about this piece at Milk Candy Review.