He told her about how hard his day had been, how tired he was. And Sarah always listened, and she always understood. He watched her nod sympathetically, moving her closed lips over her teeth in concern for him, for his problems, for his pain.

He told her how he loved his coworker, Janey, who never looked at him more than once in the morning, to say a brief hello. Sometimes. Sometimes not. Sarah was a good friend, and she always listened. He wondered if he should ask Janey out for a drink, if he should ask for a raise, if Sarah thought he would get the promotion. “What do you think, Sarah? What should I do?”

He worried about his mother and younger sister, how they lived in a bad area. He told Sarah how nice the neighborhood once was, how crime had crept up and taken over. How pretty his sister was, and how his mother’s health suffered. “What do you think, Sarah?” He didn’t know whether to move them yet, how expensive it would be.

 “What do you think, Sarah? What should I do?” He always waited patiently for her reply. But Sarah never answered, because Sarah wasn’t there.

Author guidance for This story

A piece of microfiction for my final portfolio

updated Jan 1 '01 by Lyre