100 words about fake amnesia
photo by Lyndsey Burk 

I do remember; every crappy little thing and how they’ve gained critical mass to come to define me. Everybody thinks I’m the jerk who created this situation. They’re not wrong.

The accident was an accident. I didn’t look for that kind of cop-out. But I’m good at grasping an opportunity when one presents itself.

The therapist shows me a picture of my wife.

‘She looks nice. Do I know her?’

‘Doesn’t she trigger anything?’

Late-night shouting matches, the ultimatum I thought was a scare tactic, her filing for divorce.


I do remember everything.

I just make everybody believe otherwise.

Regret (Love Nudge)

100 words about a break-up because she was unfaithful
photo by joduma 

Boxes with blue labels for their stuff, red labels for yours. Scarlet red – you can’t help but wonder if your soon to be ex-husband chose the colour on purpose. Isn’t he punishing you enough by making you do all the packing on your own?

The collection of Max and Olive’s drawings has you stumped for hours. He gets the children, he’ll get more drawings. So you should keep these. Then you think of the children – they might miss their masterpieces.

If you could’ve seen into the future that night.

You’ve too many
regrets – all stuff you did,
not didn’t do.

Security (Love Nudge)

Because Lynn’s Love Nudge competition runs all week, you get an extra 100 words today – here’s my take on Day 4 – Security:

100 words about an affair taking a dangerous turnYou’re here to end it. But he plays his ace before you get a chance to reel off your spiel.

‘Such beautiful children. Max may be taking after his father, but look at little Olive. The spit of you.’

He puts a stack of photo prints on the bar. There’s the bright glint in his eyes again; the glint you mistook for mischief. It’s malice, maybe with a little madness mixed in?

‘What did you want to talk about, my lovely?’

You lack the breath to speak the words you prepared.

You traded in
Security for threats
Of the innocent.

Jealousy (Love Nudge)

100 words about an affair going sour because the other guy is jealous of the husband
photo by Elly Filho

‘How was date night with the hubby?’

You flinch. You didn’t tell him about dinner and a movie that isn’t an animation and drinks in a trendy bar. Did you? Is he trying to rattle you again? Or has he taken up stalking you online?

‘It was a lovely evening, thank you,’ you say, hiding your anger. His face is contorted into a grimace that masks all of his attractive features. You don’t like where the thought is leading.

He doesn’t take it well when you leave early.

From welcome change to
Yet another person to please,
Ugly and green-eyed.


Written for Day Three of Lynn’s Love Nudge competition.

Obsession (Love Nudge)

(c) Ady

You enter your magic portal (aka the garage) and turn from Mum – limping defeated from the breakfast battlefield – into six-figure marketing director. Today is Tuesday, the day he may be in town, so you take a detour to the park. He’s there; your heart races.

‘We should find another bench; one that draws less attention to itself and those sitting on it.’

‘I like this bench.’

‘What if someone sees us?’

‘Let them see us. I don’t care.’

Says he whose life is safe elsewhere.

You know he’s obsessed.
You ought to call it off but
You feel so alive.


Okay, bit against the rules of FFfAW this week: I’ve combined it with Lynn’s second love nudge, so it is a continuation of yesterday’s haibun. The photo prompt just went too well with the idea I had in mind. I think this stands on its own, though – I hope nobody’ll mind.

Attraction (Love Nudge)

photo by David Marks

You have dragged your weary bones away from home and into another city, only to be locked up in a conference facility for three days. You change your mind about not wanting to be here the moment you see him. His dark eyes spark into life desires that shouldn’t be. You remind yourself of the loved ones you have kissed goodbye too early this morning. They are so far away. You need something to make this tedium bearable.

He asks if you want to skip the wine reception.

Neither of you should.
It’s the seven year itch. Or
Fatal attraction?