a flash fiction by: Nizam Al-Kahfi PKB
I saw the man. He had a fresh scar under his left eye. He was the man I had a fight last night. But it was just a dream. I woke up this morning feeling tired. I cannot remember why we fought. I do remember hitting him with my fist under his left eye. He has a tough body; in real life he would probably trashed me into a pulp. In my dreams I do as I like. Our eyes met. I weaved my way out of the crowd to escape him. He followed me. He caught my left wrist.
"Wait," he said. "I believe this is yours."
He produced a wallet. Now I remember, the wallet fell out of my pocket in the dream. I woke up before retrieving it.
I took the wallet and said thank you.
"Why were we fighting?"
"I am wondering too, but it was just a dream."
I checked the wallet. There were two thousand dollars inside. I gave him one thousand dollars.
"Thank you. Are we still in a dream?"
"I don't know," I said.
© cerita-secangkir-kopi-pkb-Nov2014
