tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-205287022011-04-21T21:06:47.281Z<i>Questio Perficio Mico</i> is a Flash Fiction site. We seek perfection. <br> Meanwhile we will tolerate brilliance, and can cope with excellence. <br>We might accept very, very good, but only if under 1,000 words and perfectly formed.Questio Perficio Micohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809224542479734022noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20528702.post-1136387999604660482006-01-04T15:18:00.000Z2006-01-04T17:25:40.473Z

He had said goodbye, finally, cruelly, (before something happened) even though he had arranged things so he wouldn’t be home that night and it could have. Now he was travelling through the night, two hundred miles, his head a mess, the car driving itself.He stopped for coffee, amazed he could feel so empty (because he was so ruthless) and because he knew (deep down) that this hadn’t been honour;

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