The Last Taxidermist's Lovely Young Wife
100-word microfiction
In White Bear Lake, we rode a tandem bike. I pretended to know how.
When we crashed into the bookstore, he went inside and bought me a stuffed polar bear. For our anniversary, he presented me with a taxidermied version. It was a mouse, white as a ghost.
I told the police a polar bear had mauled him. To some degree, they believed me. His wounds were consistent with a gaping jaw going straight for the moist warmth of organ meat.
Now, he is haunting me: spinning spokes, his spectral song.
I see him at dinner.
I taste him, too.
About the Creator
Cali Loria
Over punctuating, under delivering.
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