This is Part 2 of a piece of flash fiction about a missing friend and the narrator’s obsessive quest to find her. This second section is about 315 words and has a reading time of 1.5 minutes. Let me know what you think and stay tuned!
A few days went by, and still no sign of Ida. Alan and my friends worried about me because I talked about it so much. Ida had always been a private person; she came to the big city from a small Midwestern town, and I didn’t know much about her background. She was a nice girl with a surprisingly dirty mouth and a tendency to drink heavily. But she had her head on right; she certainly wasn’t an alcoholic. She was also a great reporter, one of the best at the newspaper. Still young, she’d already won several awards.
Did she have enemies? Did she piss someone off with her investigative reporting? I couldn’t figure it out. Even if she did, how could she have been wiped clean off the face of the earth? After a while, my friends told me to drop it. It was creeping them out, they said. Alan came to my apartment one night with a bottle of wine and suggested I get some help, maybe therapy.
“You’re getting obsessed,” Alan said. “We’re worried about you.”
“What about her?” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you are all acting like you never knew her. It’s the strangest thing.”
“It is the strangest thing,” he said. “But the strange part about it is we didn’t ever know anyone named Ida. Look, dude. I get it; you’re under a lot of stress. Work has been hectic. But this … this is like somewhat psychotic.”
We drank the bottle of wine that night, mostly in silence. We watched a movie and, eventually, Alan headed home. He told me to give him a call in the morning to make sure I was okay. I cried that night out of the blue. It wasn’t necessarily because Ida was gone, and I felt grief. It was more so because the situation’s absurdity made me feel as though I was losing it.
To Be Continued