In my books, I write about men in love but we all know that love's road isn't always pretty and well-lit and paved. Sometimes it is dark, strewn with rocks, lined in thorns, spraining ankles and drawing blood. In my flash fiction, I sometimes wander down those other roads.


Felix unlocked the gate remotely. Jason opened the front door and stepped into cool of the hall, a shadow obscuring his face. He looked up, and seeing Felix at the top of the stairs he seemed to falter—it was the tiniest hesitation and in a moment he was cloaked in his usual blistering bravado. “Hey,” he called. “What happened? You never lock the gate.”

Their cat, Rover, who had been roaming the upstairs hall with feline grace, now rubbed himself against Felix’s leg. He was a beautiful cat. Jet black, with a splash of white across his chest, he was elegant as a tuxedo.

“Where were you?” Felix demanded.

Jason ignored the question, instead addressing their cat. “Rover, come.”
Usually Rover came when called. Now, he looked from Jason to Felix and back again.

“You want him?” Felix asked. He reached down, scooped the cat up, and flung him down the stairs at Jason.

Startled by the hissing, falling cat, Jason cried out “Oh!” and raised a hand in defense. Rover, landing on Jason’s shoulder, scrambled to the ground screaming in protest.

A stealth bomber of a headache arrived on the horizon. It’s pilot, tiny, malevolent, black with purpose, zeroed in on its target and gave full thrust to the engines. The distance between him and Felix shrank. Felix’s skull throbbed. His stomach heaved. Bile burned his throat like chemical warfare.

The plane was directly overhead. The roar of the engines was so loud its sound took on physical dimension.
Jason was suddenly in front of him, pulling him into his arms, cradling his head between his neck and shoulder. Moving them, sideways like a crab, Jason led them to their bedroom, all the while whispering in Felix’s ear, his tongue drawing circles around the delicate shell.

The plane swung suddenly around, in a high graceful arc, and streaked back across the horizon whence it came. Felix was left damp, limp, queasy from its noxious fumes, but alive. Wonderfully, vibrantly, alive. He stretched luxuriously, listened to Jason singing in the shower.

Jason’s phone started buzzing. Lazily Felix reached for it, saw a text message flash onto the screen.

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