The Red Sea of Ixtapa

English: View of the mainland from an isolated...

Image via Wikipedia

A piece of flash fiction today. Maybe the kernel (maybe the operating system) of a story. Perhaps best left alone. Based, as they say, on a true story.

*****************************************************************************

His shadow crossed her naked back in Mexico. She lay in the sand on her belly, straps undone. Massive rocks, anchored in the bay, watched immovable and impassive.
“Tell me why, Carla.”
Her smooth skin never rippled. A sigh alone escaped.
“I can’t talk to you like this, Frank. I need space.”
“You ran to the other side of the planet. I don’t have any more space to give.”
She still hadn’t looked up at him. Her eyes were closed behind designer shades. An issue of Soldier of Fortune lay curled by the wet tangle of her hair. “I can’t connect with you anymore, Frank.”
“You stabbed me! I nearly died!”
“Oh, so I can’t do anything right, is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m… Carla…. The Federales are up there in the lobby right now. I had to beg them for a minute alone with you. Tell me where the money is and I can still get you out of this.”
A translucent scorpion crawled by her mouth. She crushed it between her fingers. “You’re just not there for me emotionally.”
“Don’t you see? I searched the world for you. I never stopped thinking about you.”
“And that’s another thing: you’re too obsessive.”
“I’m not… That’s not the point. You stabbed me, Carla! How could you just walk away, leave me lying in a pool of blood in some godforsaken airport, screaming your name?”
“Why is everything always about you?”
His next sounds were not speech. “Just forget it. I can’t talk to you. Best of luck in prison.”
“Frank?”
He said nothing. He surveyed the rocks, shifting his weight in the sand.
“Frank, put some oil on my back?”
“No way. Not this time. You know I know it’s a trick.”
“Frank, please. Don’t do this, not now. The sun is hurting me.”
He looked from one rock to the other. He cocked his head. A gull screamed, skimming the surf. “OK. Five minutes.”

——————————————-

English: View of the mainland from an isolated...

Image via Wikipedia

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Fiction, Travel

Speak to the captain

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s