Flash Fiction: Robert Alan Hume
© Emmanuel Monzon
Image by Emmanuel Monzon
Written by Emma Elizabeth Mathes
Photo Edited by Lucia Luzzani
When he died, it rained. The weather woman was as baffled as our neighbors were—the rain wasn’t seasonal. I was sure that it was him. While telling a story, I mentioned his name and a crash of thunder shook the sky. So, I took the hint.
I plodded around the house for days, brainless and heart sore, as thick raindrops battered our roof. Then one early morning, it stopped. And like my body was moving independently of my mind, I went for a walk.
The fog was thick and cool, and raindrops coated the grass. His truck, still parked out front, served as a reminder of his soul. And for the first time in five days, I smiled.
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