Flash Fiction: The Egg
Pocket Egg, 2019 © Xi Li
It’s been half a year since Jameson left home to gather his thoughts.
When his parents asked how long he’d be gone, all he could muster was a somber shrug. It’s more than he’s said all summer.
On the Appalachian trail, half the hikers are walking away from lives long lost, while the other half go towards some idealized world. Jameson didn’t know where he belonged, so he kept moving. In his pocket, he feels the smooth surface of a small brown egg between his calloused fingers. It’s something to keep warm for the trip; something to remind him of home.
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