She could've loved anyone or anything. She never told him. As he would later find out, the shooter was stopped just minutes after he had ended Marcy's life. As he had come into the library, she'd used her last living seconds to make the call. But all John heard was a frantic "I love-" and a bang. He both would always and would never know how she would've finished that sentence. Now that his daughter could never address him again, the thing he wanted most of all was to hear the word "you". Next to that, he wished he could've repeated those three words back. Instead, he said them to her grave stone every day until he joined her.
YOU ARE READING
Original Shorts
Science FictionThree short responses to a roll thread on /x/ from a long time ago. After the first three are five that I wrote out of the blue during the winter of 2013. Pick the one that interests you most, they can all be read as individuals.
