109 words
Fiction
Written by: Audrey Francis-Plante

I pulled the dusty typewriter—your most cherished possession—from under the bed. You had left a note on the sheet of yellowed paper: Write about your fears.

So I took a deep breath and wrote about you.

There was a lot to fear. Your crazy eyes. The crazier thoughts behind them. Every morning when I didn’t know what mood you’d be in.

After, I feared your ghost. The persistent spirit of your anger. Of your power.

I feared never being able to tell you this. Ironically, you helped me tell you through that typewriter and yellowed paper. Was it your way to apologize?

I like to think so.