Flash Fiction

The monster drops the oldest at swim practice, then the youngest at a friend’s house.

I move to the third level of a parking garage after someone shoots a bullet through my cheeks.

In the morgue, my mentor, Susan, is teaching me how to cut open a corpse’s head.

Sitting in our car and turning pages through a novel I’m not reading, I watch a cat move furtively around the carpark of a residential-house-block-turned-surgery-practice.