Finally, he said it out loud. What he’d always held back. It had been in his heart, on the tip of his tongue once, but never spoken. Until now. It spilled out, moist on his cheeks. Words fighting their way past sobbing tear-stained emotions, pent up for a lifetime. The dam broke, feelings no longer held back, conventions breached, honesty flooding out. Is it too late? Lads don’t say these things to lads, do they? Not where they came from. But now, at his graveside. It’s never too late. The words catch in his tightened chest. I bloody love you.

Inspired by Erica to write my first 100-word (sadly true) story.

https://diariesofadoc.substack.com/p/no-more-carrots-for-me

A week before med school finals, I sliced off my fingertip
The knife missed the frozen carrot in a split second blip

Kitchen towels did not suffice, nor did medical gauze
Nothing in our student flat could stem the blood loss

Called a plastic surgeon friend, hailed a cab to his house
Waved to his baby with my hand wrapped in a blouse

Compression dressing went on, the bleeding finally ceased
Waited ten days to remove it, celebrated with a feast

At the dining table with my finger stump finally free
I decided – never again, no more carrots for me