I examined his face, noting the contours, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, the lines – both laughter and worry. He nodded and with a sharp twist I broke his nose. His blue eyes watered but he made no sound. I lifted my scalpel.
'Did you want a scar with that?'
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction
Short StoryTwitter has a daily prompt using the hashtag #vss365. This thread will be for pulling those stories, plus other very short stories, into one place. There are a mixture of genres, the occasional sequence with repeated characters, and a mix of serious...
