In Time (Fiction 59: Five)
And yet, the narrative persists.
In time my memories take on the pale, tepid hues of overexposed print through uneven, shifting breaks in the shade. Entire sentences and paragraphs are missing from the story, burned bright and lost, and interpolation is forced between fixed points of reference, ever and again abstracted and rewritten, ever and again drafted and revised.
And yet, the narrative persists.
This ultra-short story has been written in what could have been preparation for the Chico News & Review's "Fiction 59" writing contest, a contest with a specification of entries containing precisely 59 words (no more, no less), had it not been spitefully written nearly four weeks after the due date. More will follow, although it is uncertain how many.