Yellow - A Flash Fiction
We were placid calm blues and violets, the predawn still, bodies wrapped around each other, radiating warmth against the slight summer morning chill.
The dark still night is the place where busyness and activity and words cannot hide you from yourself. Cannot save her from her fears.
She wakes with the first slivers of sunlight, and once it's safe enough, *busy* enough to start the day, the jealousy begins with demands and screams and shouting loud enough to save her from her own insecurity.
She is backlit, yelling, by the morning sun. Her words smear the colors of our relationship.
I am updating these in a podcast feed (dubbed "Radio Free Steven the Nuclear Man" by Laurence). You can subscribe with this link (http://feeds.feedburner.com/Ideatrash) in your podcatcher or phone. You can also read and hear the rest of the entries at the 100 Word Stories podcast site.