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musical selection: anita baker|giving you the best that I got

lettre d’amour

flash fiction

The doctors rush towards me, they worry about my breathing. I am dying. I feel it. I know it. I have you. You will carry on without me — you will have my hair, my eyes, my wrinkly nose. You will even have my voice. My sweet girl… This is my love letter to you. Eight months and counting, but counting no more. I didn’t see that pick-up truck at the intersection. I had no idea it was right in front of us.

The brakes!
I thought I pressed the brakes!
My foot stomped viciously on the brakes, but I watched us fly into the truck’s chromed mouth and I prayed. I prayed…


“Save my baby!” I am shouting. I tell the doctors to save you, let me die. They will never know how I planned for your arrival, the gift of you to this world is much more than I can give it. “Save my baby!” I am shouting again. They hear me. There are tubes everywhere. I place my hands on my bloody stomach. I feel you. You are alive. You are kicking frantically, aware that it is time. I will die today. I will die today and this is my love letter to you.

You are the single most important thing to me in this strange world. I claimed your fingers. I already know your feet. You are perfect — my blessing. I used to pray for your father’s presence, for him to spend time learning you as much as I have. It is up to you now. I love you more than the open sea, salty to its taste, but refreshing on a hot summer’s day. I love you more than the lying lover trying to persuade his faithful mate to take him back. I love you more than… this last breath.

Ahh…
Flat___________


The lights go out, I can’t hear the doctors. I can’t see them. I only see you. I only see you — crying in front of shattered glass, windy trees, and the roar of the truck as it collides with us. I am dead.

You are alive. 
They saved you.
You are here.

This is my love letter to you. This is my love letter to you. This is my love letter to you.

Zuri, you are my life’s greatest work.


Copyright© Tremaine L. Loadholt, 2019. All Rights Reserved.