Fiction from Suzanne Hicks

Photo: DeltaWorks

My Sincerest Apologies

First off, I just want to say that I know you might think it’s odd to hear from me since we haven’t talked in years, but I was so happy to find you on Facebook. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry I stole your Swatch watch in third grade. I was so jealous of that watch. The way the face popped out and could snap into a different band. How it could change so easily. You took it off that day we were painting self-portraits and left it on your desk when you got up to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t help myself. At first I kept it hidden, but then I proudly wore it on my wrist and I didn’t care when I saw your eyes fixed on it. Even when you asked me if that was your watch, because you knew it was your watch, and I knew it was your watch, I said no and I licked the face of it while you stared at me. When you told the teacher, she made me give it back to you. Honestly, I just want you to know that I’m a good person. I probably would’ve given the watch back to you eventually even if you didn’t tell on me. I just wanted to pretend it was mine for a bit. After that, I never saw you wear it again. And I’ve always wondered what happened to that watch. Did you wear it when we weren’t in school? Did you ever put it back on your wrist after I took it from you? I don’t know why I wonder about this so much. But I just need to know. I need to know if what I did left a mark on you.
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Suzanne Hicks is a disabled writer living with multiple sclerosis. Her stories have appeared in New Flash Fiction Review, MicroLit Almanac, Sledgehammer Lit, and elsewhere. She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada with her husband and their animals. Find her at suzannehickswrites.com and on Twitter @iamsuzannehicks.