Flash Fiction #103 – Mr. Smiley

They call me Mr. Smiley because I’m always smiling.

You’d be surprised how few questions I’ve been asked

about who I am.

Not one of them realizes they saw me as a little boy,

the night they ruined my mother.

They only care about themselves,

and that’s fine by me. 

I act concerned.

Mirror their body language.

Ask the right questions. 

Trust will form.

I’ll become a pal.

Finally, a confidant. 

The oversharing has already begun.

And I just can’t help smiling,


they’re stupidly handing me the keys to their ruin.

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