The brief story of a girl who wishes her father was still there. Flash Fiction
|Brisa, the youngest in a class of thirteen, was only ten years old. Yet she'd felt more emotion than any other child her age. Her father had gone to war, left with only a hug and a kiss and a long, confusing discussion with his wife. That was four years ago, and she still remembered it. Many people said Brisa had an amazing memory for a child her age, but sometimes she wished she wouldn't remember.
She longed for her father to be back. No more camouflage uniforms, no more badges, no more medals.
Still, she was stuck doing classes that she did not feel she needed, almost two hundred days a year. Then came a long summer where she had so little to entertain herself with, all she could do was miss her father more.
Even so, Brisa was proud of him. She understood he'd fought bravely to keep his country safe and free, and that maybe she was being selfish to wish for him back.
Maybe that's why she never shed a tear when the soldiers came home, carrying a gently folded flag between them.