2025 Flash Fiction Contest: First Place
Love Flows Deeper
Bethany P.
Based off the song River Flows In You by Yiruma
A baby’s cry mingled with the incessant rattling of the train and the loud conversation of the men behind me. I slammed my math book shut, not even bothering to dogear the page. I couldn’t handle more equations at the moment. Besides, I was done with college. The only reason I was studying was to get my mind off the things I didn’t want to think about.
I pushed my long hair away from my eyes and scooted even closer toward the window. The brilliant blue Californian sky and the endless rows of orange trees sped past in an unbroken line at the horizon. It was almost as I remembered it…but something was off.
The colors were all different. The trees were too yellowed, dried, wilted…in fact, they looked about as withered as I felt in this ridiculously hot train car. Even the sky seemed to be excessively bright and glaring.
But after being gone for two years, even the sky wouldn’t have stayed the same.
A river-bed ran along the tracks, a dried-up sandy one, full of tangles of tumbleweed and drifts of dust. If it was full, it would be just like the stream at home…winding, quick, lively, a source of endless adventures. All I wanted right now was to lay on the banks of that stream and feel its coolness combing through my fingers.
So many memories hung around that stream…Sunday afternoons spent swimming…following its banks and getting lost three miles from home…washing shiny rocks in the little waterfall… climbing trees to see the stream’s end but never being able to find it.
The wind picked up outside and a puff of sand blew into the windows. I coughed and slammed the window shut.
I crossed my legs again, trying for some comfortable position on the cracked plush-covered bench. I looked away from the dried-up land and shoved my book under my seat. Eyes closed, I rested my head the best way I could against the sticky back of the seat.
Two years gone…would my family be angry? If they were hurt, they didn’t show it. Everyone’s letters were so sweet and kind and considerate.
I knew I was angry—angry at myself. I glanced down at my suitcase, covered in patches from France, Spain, London, Italy. I sighed. I should have known better. A summer with my family would always be better than a trek around the world. But I didn’t know that two years ago when I ditched my family right before summer break.
My eyes drifted to my briefcase. Inside were all the letters from my family. Mother—Papa—June—John—Lily.
Would Lily even remember what I looked like? I smiled, thinking of her colorful letters. Of course she would remember me. A little girl who could recite all fifty state capitals and the whole book of Philippians from memory could remember her older sister.
And John. He would remember—but would he care? The date of his last letter was almost eight months ago. Of course he had his own things to do, projects to work on. And likely a girlfriend… wait. He was only thirteen. He better not have a girlfriend.
And then there was June. Cool and calm as the river, so creative, so encouraging…and it was to her that I had broken my promise. We had planned so much for last summer…a whole expedition down the river; picking oranges; planting flowers.
And I had gone to Europe instead.
In the distance, I saw the familiar outline of the town. I wanted to press my nose up against the glass, to get as close as I could to my home. But that would be too childish.
The station rumbled into view. It was foggy, cloudy—I backed away from the window and realized I was so close to the window my cold breath was condensing onto the glass.
I flowed into the stream of people exiting the train. Some flew into the embrace of happy relatives. But no one was there for me. I’d taken an earlier train than I was planning, so I’d expected it. Even so, I felt irritated as I began the sweltering trek home.
The dust caked my polished shoes as I trudged through the town. People passed me on the way, but no one glanced up. Since when did my hometown become so unwelcoming?
But maybe it was just the heat.
I rounded the corner—and there it was, our humble little house, as quaint and picture-perfect as usual. But something was off. Something I couldn’t place.
But the thought of ice-cold water and chilly ice-cream inside beckoned to me, and I hurried up the road.
Then I stopped. Voices drifted from the kitchen. Mom was probably preparing dinner…June would be inside helping her.
Why did this have to be so hard, just to face them?
I turned to go to the only place that couldn’t hate me. The river was just around the corner, where it dipped and bounced in a little stream before gushing over the little waterfall behind the house.
Wait.
I walked harder, then burst into a run, listening hard for the lively rush of the water.
But there was nothing. Just silence. No gushing water, no tinkling as it rippled over rocks.
I came to a breathless stop as I reached the top of the little waterfall.
Not a waterfall anymore.
It was dry, drier even than the ditch beside the railroad tracks. Instead of clear, gushing water, dry leaves filled the riverbed. Instead of little minnows darting in the shallows, flies swarmed over the carcass of a dead bird at the bottom of the ditch. Mosquitoes flocked about my legs. I let them bite as I stood there, staring.
Suddenly voices met my ears. I turned and saw two people amid the little orange grove behind the house. I started walking as fast as I could back to the house, but they saw me first.
Lily.
And June.
“ABBY! YOU’RE EARLY!” Lily dropped her basket of oranges and bolted across the lawn. “I’M SO HAPPY!”
I smiled wider than I thought was possible.
“I haven’t seen you in forever!” she cried.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry—”
“We’re going to have so much fun this summer!”
“I’m excited too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here bef—”
“Did you bring me my souvenirs?”
“Yes, I did, they’re in my bag. I should’ve come soo—”
“Yay! I’m so excited! Do you want to see what I’ve been working on in school recently?”
I sighed and smiled. Lily really couldn’t hold a grudge if she tried.
Then another figure came out from among the trees.
“Abby.”
I let go of Lily’s hand. There was June, taller than me like always. She looked…surprised, like she wasn’t sure what to do. And I didn’t know what to do either.
“We—we’d planned a whole little celebration for you! But you’re home so early—” suddenly June choked off and rushed towards me, letting her basket topple over. “Oh you’re back, you’re back, your back! I can’t believe it! I’ve been waiting for this summer for ages! I can’t believe you’re finally back!”
She finally stopped hugging me and stepped away, gazing at me. “You don’t look like you’re just out of college. You’re still really short. And…your fashion choices—” she shook her head sadly.
I just stared at her. “And—”
“And what?”
“Aren’t you going to get mad?”
She stared back like I was crazy. “Why?”
“Because…of everything I ruined?”
She shrugged. “Oh. Yeah. I was really disappointed—”
“So was I,” Lily piped in as she peeled a fallen orange.
June took the orange from her. “Those are for dinner.” Then back to me, “I understand. I’ve always wanted to see the world too. And now we’re back together again! So who cares?”
“But I really do have to apologize. Please?”
“Okay, okay. I forgive you.” She ran forward to hug me, but stopped. “You’re really dusty. Go clean up first. Oh, and you better go say hello to Mom. She wanted to be the first one to greet you.”
She laughed, and gathered up her fallen oranges as I walked off toward the house. A vision of a cold bath sparkled in my mind.
Before I entered the house I turned and glanced back at the empty stream. The summer had taken a toll on the river.
But not on June.
Her love ran deeper. I’d been gone for two years and I’d come home to an empty stream, but not an empty heart. The river of her love flowed just as clear and deep and powerful as the current of the river.
June’s laughter rang out behind me, so lively and joyful, like the tinkle of the stream. As long as she was here to laugh, I wouldn’t mind the dried-up river. And this summer, I would laugh with her.
Congratulations!
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