Fleck

Micro Fiction

I was staring in the bathroom mirror, trying to figure out who the man looking back at me was. His face reminded me of someone familiar: a boy with the world at his feet; a boy without a nickel; someone whole.

I turned off the light; this was no place for children.

In the dark, I could hear the boy weeping for me.

I turned the light back on and saw that insidious mark: the gold fleck in his iris.

I called the police and turned myself in. “I’ve committed an unimaginable crime,” I said. “I stole my life.”

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