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  • Writer's pictureLynne Clark

On his way


It's Monday, and I hope you all had a wonderful weekend, out enjoying the blasts of sunshine as it evaporated the rainfall that punctuated the warmth. This is the second piece of Flash fiction that I wrote from the visual prompt of The Hitchhiker. It's spare, and you will need to unleash your imagination, but I am pleased with it. What do you think?

Elliot slid his fingers over the ribbed cuff of the hoodie. No catches, no frayed edge. He raised his arm to his nose, enjoying the heart-lurching smell of newness. It told him he was on his way, he was free.

‘Sorry it’s only blue. They didn’t have any claret to go with it. Shall I get you a bottle of wine?’

He’d smiled at the old West Ham joke. ‘Don’t worry, mum. I won’t watch football all the time, I promise.’ A wink. ‘I shall miss the claret, though...’

He rolled his shoulders. The edge of the straps on the backpack cut a bit, but they would soon soften. Another present, this time from his sister.

‘It’s got secret pockets, so make sure your phone and cash are hidden. Russia is dangerous.’

He rolled his eyes. Nag, nag. ‘Yeah, all right. Thanks, anyway.’

She was right, of course. Pickpockets, two blokes. One nudged him, the other aimed for his back pocket. The phone-shaped lump had been a notebook so they’d got nothing.

He shifted the backpack again. A deep breath, and stretched out his thumb.

So Russia was dangerous.

So what. He was free.

On his way.

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