Sitting on the cliffside bench, I watch the sun slide below the horizon. Another lonely day survived; so many similar days since Sheila passed away. Suddenly I realise I’m not alone. I hadn’t noticed anyone approach. I nervously turn, ready to move. Her eyes, catching the last of the evening light, are simply beguiling. It is as if she is looking through me, peering into my loneliness; tempting me. I shuffle my arm along the back of the bench, curious as to how she will react; tempting her. I feel a gentle touch on my hand. She starts to purr.
Fall Contest 2024 “Flirt” Finalist! John Holmes is a past winner of The Times short story award. He likes to cycle and write—not at the same time. About “Maybe.” our Contest Readers said, “love the surprise in this” and “wonderful sense of control in its pacing.”