In the Corn Maze
Flash fiction
Cody hates the corn maze.
It’s hot and dry and dusty. Corn stalks reach for the sky, desiccated leaves rattling against one another in the wind like muted castanets. The sun is setting soon, already veiled behind the rows upon rows of corn, only a tendril of fading light here and there between the stalks. Cody turns right again, his shoes kicking up tiny dust devils with each step. Beneath his t-shirt, a drop of sweat trails down his spine into the waistband of his jeans. The scent of dry grass and dust tickles his nose. Beneath it, he can just make out the smell of the hot oil and caramel beyond the corn maze and the thought of fresh fried mini donuts and funnel cakes quickens his steps.
Where is Al anyways? They’d agreed to meet at the maze entrance, and he’d been there just before Cody arrived. Cody saw him grinning at him over the other fairgoers’ heads. But then, Al winked and ducked into the maze, silently daring Cody to follow, to chase him down.
After a day spent haying in the heat, Cody is tired and hungry and thirsty, and not really in the mood to wander among the corn stalks, hunting his mischievous boyfriend. He just wants a cup of apple cider and a mess of deep fried food and somewhere to sit in the shade. Preferably with Al sitting next to him.
