Build Me Up

by Sara Crowley

She places a buttercup underneath his chin and watches the weed reflect its yellow glow. She leans closer, and inhales his clean, fresh scent. The sun is buttery too, mellow and low, casting shadows on the springy grass. “It’s all good,” she says, just to express it, the spread of happy, so rare. “Hmmm,” he replies, bored by her already, distractedly wondering what to put in the sandwich he is planning to go home and make. He has settled on tuna when she whispers her declaration of love.


Sara Crowley is (in no particular order) a mum, writer, daughter, bitch, sister, friend, bookseller, and wife. She has had stories published at Pulp.net and a couple of other online places. She has a blog, and appreciates you taking the time to read this.


Anonymous said...

i really enjoyed this. i've read some other pieces by sara, and she has an uncanny gift for this sort of extreme economy/maximum expression style.... always the sign of someone with formidable technique, i think. it's telling you more than it appears to let on.

matt kinnison

Quin said...

i've read your other pieces, too and find myself re-reading them to get the full impact.

Goncalo Veiga said...

A very good piece.

sporadic reader said...