A Selection of Microfics About Relationships and Endings

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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Here are some of my past “doodles.” I thought people might enjoy them! (Be aware, this is a rather sad selection. They’re all about how relationships end.


He remembered. The gold of her hair, the red of her lips, the pale of her skin. The fading pale, becoming a memory and an echo, shading to blue. The echo that was the beep, beep, beep of the machines, the machines that were not and never could be her. He remembered, and he loved, and the life of her, the fire of her, extinguished by the water, the darkness. He remembered, and he knew what he must do.

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Photo by Robby Suharlim on Unsplash

For Him

It had been carefully placed on the platter, next to plates of cookies and cupcakes. It had been made for him, only for him, something he had not tasted in years. It sat there, a cake server on the edge of the platter. Bowls and spoons, waiting for it, the smell of treacle rising from it slowly, the smell of desire. The smell that drifted across the room to where she sat, the white dress in disarray, the veil on the floor beside her. The only other scent was the salt of her own tears.


It was she, bound to him in all the ways that mattered. For years, they were as two finely matched horses. Then came the children, and the pieces strained, threatened to break. The daughter, pregnant at fifteen and refusing to name daddy. The son, caged. The empty nest, in which pieces of their bond fell as torn leather to the ground. The raised voices tied them back together, it was the silence that caused the collars to fall to the ground. It was the silence, and left behind, abandoned, the marriage.

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Photo by christian koch on Unsplash

Outside, Inside

Outside, there was the soft drip, drip, drip of the rain as it fell to form in puddles on the street. The click of the woman’s heels as she walked away, her back set, the rain drenching her, damp clothes clinging to her form. Inside, there was only a quizzical whimper from a bemused terrier dog who watched the door. Inside, there was the unheard clatter of the pieces of his broken heart.

Written by

Freelance writer, freelance editor, novelist and short story writer. Jack of many trades. https://www.jenniferrpovey.com/

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