12:40
A.M.
Touching
Scott’s skin as he slept—this new interesting man who just an hour ago had come
stirringly inside of her—Joy drifted to an early memory of her parents, lying
naked together in the living room. “What’s the matter, Sweetie, can’t sleep?”
her mother asked. Seeing her folks like that had been startling but also made
her feel safe. Her mom tucked her in with a gentle kiss; “Goodnight.” Scott’s
skin was warm and smooth, like his breathing. Closing her eyes, Joy didn’t hear
the traffic outside, the trucks surging down the highway, drivers alone
listening to their radios.
Alan Humason
Alan Humason is a writer in
Fort Bragg, CA. He has published short fiction and poetry in such periodicals
as Flash: The International Short Story Magazine, Third Wednesday, The Longleaf
Pine, The Reed, WORK, and 100wordstory.com. He has a BA in English Literature
from UC Santa Barbara and is a past winner of the Grand Prize Phelan Award for
writing from San Jose State University
Tags:
Short Fiction