Fresh Milk | A flash fiction story
60 of 💯
Hey, Linda. So, Craggy has been digging up stuff. I don’t know what it is or where he finds it, and I wish I could look at it. I’m not complaining about being blind, but I can’t make out what’s the stuff he’s been digging just by touching it.
At first, I thought they were some kind of weird rocks or bones — that dog brings the craziest shit home, you know? — but some of them have sharp edges and intricate little protrusions and tiny paths, and others are smooth and cold. Most of these things smell like… I don’t know. Electronics? They smell like that deep… echo-whatever — the scanner-thing you used to have. But then some of them smell of fresh milk, which is just weird.
It was only today I realized this might be what you had always looked for. It’s just like you said: old aliens. Maybe they lived in Anchora before Atlanta built Argon, even before the old mines, before people got here, before we even knew this planet existed.
I can’t know for sure ’cause I can’t see what the damn things are, but I’ve been collecting them. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with them but I sure as hell won’t take them to the city. I still wish some brainy scientist would take a look. I’m too dumb for this crap.
I wish you were alive. Then you’d know what it is and you’d smile and tell me and I wouldn’t understand but I’d be happy because of your smile.
I still miss you, Linda. Things are better now that Craggy keeps me company. Sometimes I even forget to talk to you before bed — but I still miss you. I’m never gonna stop missing you.
Your plants are fine, by the way. I'm taking good care of them. I always will.
Good night, Linda.
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