No man is an island.
Marta’s brain knew this to be true though her heart doubted it.
Things bustled around her, throngs of people coming and going. Her home was an endless parade of mourners trying to buffer her grief with hushed condolences and casseroles. As if “sorry” could soften the blow of unexpectedly losing her love of thirty-two years. She managed robotic hugs and canned responses. Numb.
Maybe she wasn’t an island, but she felt like she was stranded on one. Well, not exactly stranded. Perhaps with a boat, but lacking an oar…the means without the drive.
Photo credit: © Fatima Fakier Deria
Do you ever just feel overwhelmed and while the world carries on merrily around you, all you can do is… float? That’s what I’m trying to portray here, not sure if it works. This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other authors’ contributions here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.