I was cooking breakfast, bacon sizzling in the pan, when they called to tell me you were dead. Had been dead for four years. Perhaps murdered. The gears of time slip, and the past crashes into today with the force of a motorway pile-up. Events concertina, throwing up mountain ranges and dredging shadowed valleys.
If only I hadn’t. Or you didn’t. I search the Internet for four-year-old details. A marriage gone wrong. A property dispute. A failed police investigation. The news runs out as attention shifted.
The bacon starts to crisp and burn. I serve-up just in time.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here.