Micro Fiction Collection: Secrets and Regrets
Three Stories of Things Left Unsaid Words unsaid often weigh more than those spoken. In this collection of micro fiction, each piece explores the delicate moments when silence becomes a character of its own - in a midnight call that goes unanswered, in an apology that refuses to take shape, in a note that marks an ending. They examine how secrets can become regrets, and how regrets themselves can become secrets we carry.The Midnight CallThe phone rings, I feel the vibration on the nightstand. My eyes are closed, but I'm wide awake. I hear his voice in my mind; the old version of it. The reassuring timbre that was a promise of permanence.It's replaced by something aloof, like a cloud that appears substantial but dissolves at touch.I open my eyes. The moon is bright, but it has no inherent light. It's just the reflection of the sun.No ApologyI'm sorry, she types. The words seem insufficient. The cursor blinks expectantly: So? What for? Delete.I never wanted to hurt you. Why did you? Delete.I need to tell you how bad I feel. Can't live with your guilty conscience, can you? She sighs, frustrated.Words change shape between writing and reading, meaning lost in transit. Words can't rectify what actions caused.She puts her phone away. Silence is her crime and her punishment.The Last NoteOn the hanger in the hallway, his thread-bare jacket hangs limply, stitched at the seams by her hands many times.She can't stand its sight any longer. It's a mockery of her youth spent trying to mend, to fix. Lately, she realised her efforts were futile. Some things will only grow old and lazy and shabby.She slips a note into the pocket of the lifeless garment. She doesn't look back as she leaves the room.