Flash Fiction: Melting in the Moonlight

Midnight in the Garden #77 (May, Jefferson Market Garden) © Anna Beeke

By Anita Sheih

Did you know

before I met you

I had never once snuck out of my house?

I would pair each sock with its match

and brush my teeth before bed,

hoping

to dream

about tiptoeing through the tulips.

Now I am hoisting one leg

up and over the windowsill,

and then the other,

remembering.

How then, I dared not sneak out.

I dared not speak up.

I didn’t dare.

But now I don’t think of then.

For now,

I don’t tiptoe.

I am

running

revolting

rejoicing

in an explosion of blurred blossoms.

I spin and shout and count

the pink petals

melting in the moonlight

every midnight in the garden.

And I think I see you

in the breeze between blooms.