Flash Fiction: House Hunting

Boxes and furniture sat on the yard. Old and abandoned things of melted cardboard and ruined wood.

Melvin and Clint stood next to each other, one holding a camera, the other wanting nothing more than to run. But Clint knew Melvin was not going to be denied. Dating him had taught Clint that lesson again and again.

“It’s…quieter than I thought it would be,” Clint said.

“No one’s been here in a long time. Duh, it’s quiet,” Melvin said and took a step onto the grass.

Clint flinched. “Don’t—ugh…”   Continue reading

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