Come Back to Me

image rights to Loelle

Come back to me” were words Jordan remembered. The memory of his wife’s face was drawn in the smog of the city district.

He swung a sledgehammer and started to demolish a wall of an apartment building on Forty-eight Street. A picture of a young couple fell on the floor. He picked it up then brought the wall down.

It was late when he got home, but his daughter waited for him.

“I made dinner dad,” said the teenager.

Jordan sat down with her and tasted the meal.

“Jane, your pot roast is as good as your mom’s,” he remarked.

“Thanks dad, but mom’s is better,” sneered Jane.

Jordan stared blankly at the empty chair beside his. Jane instinctively walked behind her dad’s chair and hugged him tightly.

“She would have came back, dad, if only she could,” Jane said.

About Zorlone

"Telling stories 140 words at a time" may not be the best way to tell stories, but what started as a challenge to oneself, turned into a website of flash fiction. Follow me @Twitter or visit me at Zorlone.

3 Comments to “Come Back to Me”

  • MinnieRunner says:

    Another sad story, why is it we are all in tune at writing such? :P

    Thanks for the comment Doc Z on my attempt to write a short story once more. It really meant a lot.

    • Zorlone says:


      Maybe we are in sync with this theme or maybe because it’s the easiest to draw inspiration from.

      Keep on writing.


      • MinnieRunner says:

        I guess so Doc Z. It is really the easiest piece that I can draw inspiration from.

        I will keep on writing. And I will be typing it in my cellphone if the story pops on my mind while I’m offline. The recent story I had written was not as good as what I had constructed in my memory. I failed to write it immediately, that’s why.

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