PJ Stephenson

Summer in November

My instinct is to head south. To rediscover the summer. 

As green waves smash sunbeams into a thousand glassy shards, my toes etch your name in the sand. 

The swallows are still here, darting between swaying palms and squawking parakeets. Instead of sunbathers, pushchair parents gossip over cappuccinos while their dogs and children chase gulls from the beach. 

Couples walk the esplanade. Entwined. Whispering.

I can hear your laugh, see your selfie pose.

But the sun has abandoned the Catalan coast. Clouds rise like smoke. Water chills my bare feet. 

And an ebbing wave erases you.

Like the cancer did.


This story was shortlisted in the February 2022 Monthly Micro Competition.

About the author: PJ’s been making up stories since he was a child and now writes short fiction. You’ll find his work in 101 Words, Apricity, Dream Catcher, Flash Fiction Magazine, Flash Frontier, FlashBack Fiction, Reflex Fiction, SickLitMagazineDotCom, Spillwords, STORGY, The Fiction Pool, The Sunlight Press and several anthologies. Follow him @Tweeting_Writer