Nights in Uganda
Short fiction
After three and a half years, Kamryn had finally come home.
It only took her three and a half weeks to fall into a rut and to realize “home” wasn’t New York anymore. Her new life consisted of job hunting by day and doom scrolling by night on social media. A part of her wanted to move on and fall into a rhythm, but the harder she tried the more she yearned.
One evening, instead of meeting up with an old friend who had reached out, Kamryn scrolled through pictures on her phone. She saw herself surrounded by her students in Uganda, the women at the market who danced with her, and the morning ritual of cleaning the dirty dishes on the back steps of her home with one of her young neighbors nicknamed Royo. Royo’s pants were too short, and his shoes were too big. Kamryn felt the cold water from the bucket as it cleansed her body every other day and heard the laughter, clapping, and dancing of the children in her classroom as they learned to love language together.
She remembered the still, pitch-black nights in Uganda: the hum of mosquitos, soft music playing from afar, the peace of knowing what tomorrow would bring.
Kamryn called her mother and tried to fight back the bittersweet tears she knew would come the more she talked. “Mom? I don’t really know how to say this, but I think I’m going back…”
Thank you for reading “Nights in Uganda” — I hope you enjoyed it.
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Have a great weekend, everyone.
Justin, this is the best piece I've read by you, and one of the stories I've most enjoyed from any writer on Substack. 💖
That is what I like best about flash fiction. You give us the clear setting, the character, the conflict - the beginning, the middle and a step toward the end. Then you engage the readers to fulfill or complete it in their own heads. I love the part left unsaid, both as a reader and a writer.