Flash Fiction

Sweet Red Berries (Bisexual Flash Fiction)

Do you remember how we touched?

The sun was hot, the air so thick that summer. I was barely sixteen, you were nearly seventeen, an age in teenage years, and yet we fit together.

In the August heat, we hunted wild red berries by the lake, hiding in the leaves, plump and heavy. We dipped our bare toes in the cold water and ate our sweet plunder, our fingers sticky and red. I started to lick my fingers, but then you caught my hand and sucked the juice off me, and my face went as red as my fingers.

We tasted berries on each other’s lips like forbidden wine.

I was strawberries, peeking out from hiding, so sweet upon the tongue. You were raspberries, full and rich and bold.

Do you remember how we dove into the lake, shrieking at the shock of cold? I couldn’t take my eyes off you, dripping wet and laughing on the dock. We lay in the sun for just a moment, then rolled into the grass together.

Do you remember how we touched? In the shade of the raspberry canes, while the lake waters lapped upon the shore, we found new adventures in each other. I can still taste your honey on my tongue.

I see you watching me now. Your soft hand on your husband’s arm, your red lips parted just a bit as our eyes meet across the crowded room. Years have passed between us, and still you set my pulse to racing.

But that time is gone, and we are different people now. We have husbands, children, responsibilities.

I raise my glass of berry punch and silently salute you. Here’s to memories and sweet red berries.

Esther learned to read when she was four years old, and began writing shortly thereafter. She is a queer Christian poet, crafting with words to create art and music.

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