A flash. A moment of illumination. An event perceived by the senses, filtered through memory and emotion. A flash of recognition. A flash of guilt. A flash of joy. Where everything you feel is everything you are.
A flash. Flash fiction. Small stories. Thin slices of time that are shaped by what comes before and what immediately follows. No moment stands alone. A whole life teeters on this. There's what comes before and what comes after. That's what you think. That's what you're taught and that's what you do. You live in the moments that pile up behind you and the moments yet to come, and rarely, maybe never, do you live where the moments themselves are born.
This is my Flash Box. Inside are very short stories. Microfiction, some call it. They were written between 1997 and 2007.