“Dangling Participles and Doppelgängers (an intro)”

(Flash Fiction)

Somewhere in the world, there’s my doppelgänger. He’s living all fucking fulfilled; his used-to-be gorgeous wife; who now, she’s still a solid six — if we’re not including her box that he’s been tired of fucking for the last eighteen years; having witnessed the decline, up close and personal. He rolled over this morning and grabbed onto her body just out of natural reflexes. She opens up with the same instinct; makes a little face, a slight moan, and voilà — five minute morning sex, at five in the morning. Right before the knocks at the door. My son needs money; my daughter needs money, and my car keys. Then, there’s me…

“What’s your name?”

I chuckled, she was so direct. “I’m Fletch. You?”

“Talking to my grandfather,” she was witty, I had to admit. “Why is your name Fletch? Is that short for Fletcher? And is Fletcher your last name? Who goes around introducing themselves by their last fucking name?” She didn’t give a damn about any of that, really. Her eyes trained on mine; her body crept closer to me, until she stood right in front of me; hands on both kneecaps, as I sat, motioning for the bartender who was already on duty.

“Fletcher. Fletcher Woodrow;” she held her head to the side, giving me her neck.