Next Time Expected

Benny faces thug Finneran expecting another beating; good hand shaking as if about to lose the farm doubling down. Benny’s keys rattle changing owners—goodbye silver Jag.

“They’re you go, Buddy.” Finneran threatens mockingly, “More than a gambling problem next time. You’ll turn-up DOA. Capice?”

Benny’s recurverate hand held onto heartburn, “Won’t be a next time, Fin.”

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Call It A Day (Flash 55 Fiction)

Reformed past dilapidation, pondering underachievement throughout wonder years, it was now or stay depressed. Whatever Gem had saved, amounting to memories most neurotically contained in the inevitable box—literally, metaphorically, figuratively, deliberately, anonymously—we all get it. The End. He logged off to have a beer with a friend. Unburdened and alive, relieved he finally tried.

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*55 Fiction (nanofiction)