Tiny Dancer (A Story in 100 Words)

It was the shoes that broke his heart.

Somehow, he’d managed to pack it all away without shedding a tear. Everything folded neatly and put into boxes; out of sight, out of mind. Then he’d found them, the ballet slippers that both fit in his open palm.

His wife had said to get rid of it all—burn it if he had to—and he would play the dutiful husband, but when he tried to add them to the pile he could not loosen his grip. He slipped them into the pocket over his heart.

Weeping, he lit the match.

2 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s