Until Then
188-word flash fiction about the tall order of long-distance love.
“When will I hear from you?”
“We’ll be pretty busy helping pack the truck, then it’s straight to the airport. Maybe when I land?”
“I’ll be in class, so I’ll call on my way home.”
“Not too late though, I’m meant to be at my parents’ for breakfast, so I want to hit the road early.”
“Ah, right.”
“Hey, who knows, maybe when you visit, I’ll be a different girl?”
“I hope not.”
“It was just a joke”
“But you probably will be different. What if we don’t like who we are the next time we see eachother in person?”
“We’re still going to talk, though. We’ll Skype every night and call throughout the day.”
“I don’t want to take you away from making new friends.”
“I’ll tell you all about them. There’s so much to be excited for. So much newness.”
“Not much will change around here, though. What if I get boring? You know nothing exciting happens in this box.”
“Well, I guess you’d better make the move too. Make that promise, and after a year we’ll be together every day again.”
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
“I have to go.”
“Okay.”
Written for Flash Fiction February with Storytelling Collective, where the prompt was: Write a complete scene using dialogue alone—without dialogue tags or any exposition.