Good Karma

Short story i wrote :) ignore the genre, couldn't find a good one

She could still remember that day, the cloudless skies, the tartness of the sea and the sunshine glittering on the tips of each wave, shimmering like a candle in the mid-afternoon light. That man, with hair that looked as if it were on fire and the wide grin that had snapped their pictures as they passed by, capturing their playful expressions and the laughter in their eyes, like a painting. Maybe that was all it was to him, a simple painting, a piece he showed to a couple of friends and then shoved into an album filled with fifty other ‘paintings’ all looking the same. To her it was so much more. She could almost feel the warmth of the sun soaking into her skin, and the thrill of gliding along the streets, their hands joined and bikes only inches away from each other, shoulders touching. Now she knew that nothing could ever be perfect. She was like a bird then"untouchable, until that moment when she’d come back, to find him gone, with only the bikes left parked against the curb. She remembered how she’d looked for him, how her face fell and her heart fell and how everything just fell apart, falling into a vast chasm of nothing. With him gone, she was nothing, nothing but a girl with two bikes and no one to ride them with.

After he’d left her, she’d tried so hard, tried to perform a thousand acts of kindness, pure and untouched kindness, praying and praying every minute that Karma would notice her. To her the need was urgent, and good things needed to be done.

She’d spent 20 years alone before they’d met, but every second she’d spent without him was now gut-wrenchingly slow, painful almost. But yes, she’d moved on, and yes, she had tried so hard to forget about him, forget about the sugar and the hurt that swirled around, mingling with the memories of him and her, together. 

Rapidly, she shook these memories out of her head, and the thoughts flung themselves to the corners of the room, where their nostalgic whispers could no longer be heard.

“Good Karma.” They whispered. “Good Karma will come.”

Reviews

[trainwreck]

This had an interesting ring to it. fiction would be a workable genre, and I was very engrossed in your writing. I liked it.