Best Friends
Flash Fiction, by C.J. Heck
Their coffee had turned cold, but neither of them even noticed. Maria watched as Evan traced the familiar chip on his mug—a souvenir from a road trip that ended in a flat tire and two hours of crazy laughter.
They didn’t feel a need to fill the silence. That was a well-worn sweater they both shared and were comfortable wearing.
“I was thinking about the time you talked me into moving,” Evan said softly, finally looking up. “I remember how terrified I was.”
Maria smiled, the kind of smile that held a whole decade of keeping secrets. “Yeah, you really were. But I knew your wings worked better than you thought.”
She reached across the table, her hand briefly resting on Evan’s. In a world that constantly demanded more and more, this was the only place where ‘enough’ was a steady baseline.
They weren’t just witnesses to each other’s lives. They were the steady flow of ink that made their friendship readable.
As the sun’s rays waned, painting long shadows across the floor, Maria realized home wasn’t lines converging on a map, or a building set on a patch of ground somewhere.
Home was the person who knew exactly how you took your coffee … even when you both forgot to drink it.




Thank you for restacking ‘Best Friends’, @Kathleen Hobbs
"They were the steady flow of ink that made their friendship readable." MARVELLOUS. Thanks, C.J, for reminding us of where home really is.