This is my microfiction story Oxford Summer as featured in The Simple Things magazine in June 2018.
The long, hot summer before you left, days stretched like elastic; tense with waiting. Too tired to move, we lay naked on the floor; limbs outstretched, fingertips touching. Mouths parched, the awkward words stuck in our throats. Your bedsit tidied into neat boxes, there was nothing to drink. And I hated the tap water, stale on my tongue. We stole powdered milk; mixed it with guilt in the tiny kitchen. Barely palatable, we gulped it down along with our foreboding.
The last goodbye arrived; a hurried kiss under burning sun, engine running. And I noticed your hands were shaking.