Meeting Point

I suggest cascara, he points towards a lemonade.

I, a serpentine lane, he, borders drawn at right angles on old maps.

I slide down a funnel to the beach, he ramp walks to the mouth of the river.

I, a sand castle with red sand from the moon, he, a labourer digging a diamond mine.

The ring around Saturn, my gift. A moat with floating criss-cross stars, his choice.

Give me the tick-tack of knitting needles. The pulley silent for him, a cease-work order?

Sweaty, sweaty, sweaty on, humid nights. Same pinch, says he, drenched. I roll over in laughter.

This story was shortlisted for the September 2023 Monthly Micro Competition.

About the author: Shrutidhora P Mohor has been listed in several international writing competitions like Bath, Bristol, Retreat West, and been published by literary magazines like oranges journal, Fiery Scribe Review Magazine, Flash Fiction Magazine, Erato magazine, Bullshit Lit, Friday Flash. She has been nominated for Best Micro Fictions 2023 by Vestal Review.