A hundred camera filters later she’s sitting at the Tailwinds pub hours early worried that there will be nothing to say once he’s seen her and doesn’t recognise her and she’s in and out of the loo in Terminal B appraising her face and wondering what she can do with the next bundle of hours and with her doomed expression and this morning each one of his texts drops against her bad hip as she tried to figure out what to wear because she still couldn’t decide, the most damaging I’m the old boy with the big smile, she thought bless him, but really she can’t, he’s flying across the ocean right now after the years of dreaming about it, and it’s here and then another, kisses sweetheart, before he boarded and still she didn’t mention she had dreamt herself twenty years younger and more resilient than this every single time they videoed with filters and now she imagines his body right here in the Tailwinds, him watching her circumnavigate ice cubes with her wet little finger, pushing them around like clouds, lipping the rim of a third gin and tonic when she notices a missed and final text, have to shut this thing off hon, I’m belted and she texts, fly safely, and orders a forth as she stares at the lemon rind smile at the bottom of her glass. 

MEG POKRASS is the author of six flash fiction collections, an award-winning collection of prose poetry, two novellas-in-flash and a forthcoming collection of microfiction, Spinning to Mars recipient of the Blue Light Book Award in 2020. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Washington Square Review, Wigleaf, Waxwing and McSweeney’s. She is the Series Founder and Co-Editor of Best Microfiction.

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