The walkway stretches out before me like an endless diving board into the sunset. This concrete shouldn’t exist, floating miles above a sea of clouds and turned amber by the dying light. Four minutes and thirty seconds until sunset.
I’ve watched others do this for years — walking these paths to fix their mistakes. Big ones, usually. Preventing accidents. Avoiding wars. Saving lives.
Me? I’m here because I said no to coffee.
“This is stupid,” I mutter, but keep walking. The air gets thinner with each step. “Of all the things to fix, Sarah, you’re choosing the time you turned down the only genuine guy who ever asked you out.”
But that’s not quite right. Jake wasn’t just genuine. He was kind and funny, and looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to spend time solving. He wore sweater vests unironically and helped old ladies with their groceries and probably rescued kittens in his spare time.
And I said no because I was still hung up on Chad.
Chad, who had the emotional depth of a kiddie pool and cheated on me two weeks later.
Three minutes now.
The thing about these sunset walks is that you can only change one thing. Ever. No do-overs, no second chances. One fix per lifetime.
“I could prevent the car accident that killed Mom,” I whisper to the clouds. “I could stop my brother from enlisting.”
But I keep walking.
Because sometimes the tiniest mistakes echo the loudest.
The end of the path materializes like a mirage — a small platform just big enough for two people. And there is someone else there, a familiar silhouette that makes my heart stop.
Jake.
He turns, and for a moment, I see that same gentle smile I’ve replayed in my head for three years. Then recognition hits, and his eyes go wide.
“Sarah?”
“I —” Words fail me. All this way to say yes to coffee, and he’s here. Actually, here. “What are you doing here? I came to fix —”
“My sister,” he says softly, cutting off my confession. “I’m here for Emily. The day she called asking for help, and I was too busy with work to answer.”
Oh.
The sun bleeds into the horizon. One minute left.
“Did she…?” I can’t finish the question.
“Yeah.” He looks away, then back. “What about you?” he asks.
I laugh, but it comes out wet with tears. “I came to say yes to coffee with you.”
His smile is sadder now, older. “That would have been nice.”
We stand in silence as the sun slips away. Neither of us moves to change anything.
Because sometimes the biggest mistake is thinking we know which mistakes matter most.
“Want to get coffee now?” he asks as the path begins to fade. “I know a place.”
This time, I say yes.
Image made with Midjourney.
Prompt provided by NoGENver, GoOnWrite.
Flash Fiction written by S. J. Pajonas with assistance from Claude 3.5 Sonnet.
Listen to this story on YouTube at https://youtu.be/zDfoq2EeXZY
