When You Wish (Jane Doe, Six Sentence Stories)

Jane sighs with relief, finally out of her pinchy work flats, braless and comfy in soft, worn jeans and T-shirt. After the oppressive and unusual heat these last days, the evening is blessedly cool. The hedges and trees whisper amongst themselves in the light breeze as they hide her from neighbors’ prying eyes.

She hugs the stray dog, her dog now, and looks up at the sky, clear of cloud cover for once but washed flat by the moon and the glow of city lights.

Few jobs, high rents, unfriendly people, aren’t even what’s really wrong with this place:  It’s the whole damned sky. How long has it been since she’s had stars to look at?

tpsdave-pixabay-cco-pd
tpsdave/Pixabay

This is a Six Sentence Stories vignette from The Life and Times of Jane Doe. The cue was “star.”

Fun Six Sentence Stories from other writers can be found here.

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Author: Deborah Lee

I like trees, dreaming, magic, books, paper, floating, dreaming, rhinos, rocks, stargazing, wine, dragonflies, trains, and silence to hear the world breathe.

8 thoughts on “When You Wish (Jane Doe, Six Sentence Stories)”

  1. Fantastic! I was discussing this phenomenon the other day with a class — how light pollution blocks the stars from view. This nails that sensation with the added bonus of toiling away beneath a sky absent of stars, and we will toil regardless because ultimately we know they are there even when we can’t see them.

    Liked by 1 person

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