Some days, over lunch, I envision taking you.
Stealing away in the cool breeze to impossibility, or perhaps, Europe.
I would just
grab your hand and we would walk
from this plane to another; unaware of worldly restraints or
We would settle in a nest and break our bread by the moon.
We would incubate our future, our past
helicopter parents—leaving them tucked safely away for the world
to forever ignore.
When I look in your eyes, convivial with laughter and playful
I would see him and I would see her.
I would feel my smile sour and feel your warm skin crumble like an
sticky yolk pouring forth.
I grasp, but you slip through—only the
a painful yellow stain of what could’ve been.
So I start; I give you a hug, a laugh at your joke, a knowing wink
and turn back
to my cobb salad.
Cody Mullins is an Associate Professor of English and Humanities Program Chair at Ivy Tech Community College and a Literature PhD student at Ball State University. He grew up in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains and, despite his Hoosier home, is a true hillbilly at heart. He lives in Noblesville, Indiana with his wife and son. Cody Mullins is the winner of the 2016 Southampton Review Short Short Fiction Contest and the 2016 Kathy Carlson Flash Fiction Award Winner.