Scraps / National Flash Fiction Day anthology / 2013
Hope is a virus, an unwanted guest. It’ll tip-top its hat, knock on doors, shake your hand and give you a wink. You’ll let it in because others will tell you to: hope is a good thing, they’ll say. But one simple helix will become two. Its protein coat of sensible-optimism will cause it to go unseen until it’s coursing through your brain and invading each and every thought. But you won’t see it. Viruses are too small. They live on the edges of life, pulling you apart from within, but holding you together with wisps of promises that will either be broken or fulfilled.
This is what happened to me.