by Louella Lester
Today, I ran for the bus and one sock slipped into my shoe. Reaching to pluck it out reminded me of a certain drunk teenage boy. His fingers tried, but he didn’t know body shirts had snaps that clipped closed between legs, and the luck was not with him that night. He was certain, but that drunk teenage boy didn’t know. And he slipped, so I slipped out and ran. I ran and the luck was with me.
6S
Louella Lester is a writer and amateur photographer in Winnipeg, Canada. Her work has appeared in New Flash Fiction, Spelk, Reflex Fiction, Vallum, Gush: menstrual manifestos for our times (Frontenac House, 2018), and A Girl’s Guide to Fly Fishing: Reflex Fiction Volume Three (Reflex Press, 2020). Her Flash-CNF book, Glass Bricks (At Bay Press, 2020) is upcoming.