By Bud Koenemund
A 100 Word Story
Last night, I
dreamt about you. Nothing momentous, or erotic; just an ordinary scene that
faded quickly when I woke to the sadness of your absence, and the knowledge
that I can’t even send you a “Good morning, Beautiful” text to enjoy the smile
that – once upon a time – would have spread across your face when you realized
I’m thinking about you. And, often, you’d send back a “blushing emoji,” because
you don’t believe you’re beautiful. But, I’d say it every day – because it’s
true – and I had hoped to make you understand it.
That’s what I miss the most.
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