Mary stared, blinking, at the urine-covered stick—Please, only one line—as two lines appear. She tried to imagine the child in her arms, but the impression wouldn’t jell. When far away an interrupted cry breaks her heart, she sees him clearly. She knows she loves him already with a love she’s never known before.
You need to get rid of it, Joseph spouts.
This is your child too, she retorts. How can you be so flippant?
She tosses the test results in the trash, grabs her purse, and goes in search of someone who will care, someone who will help her do the right thing.
Joseph resolves to let her go, but the truth won’t let go of him. He races out the door after Mary. I’m sorry. I love you. We can find a way to do this.
He gave her hope.
They’re starting a new prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub. They’re calling in Prosery. The prompt is to write a short, 144-word flash fiction piece with a given phrase or sentence in the middle. The given phrase for this first prosery prompt is “When far away an interrupted cry,” which comes from Robert Frost’s poem Acquainted with the Night.