Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is an editor at HOOT Review, a contributor to SSG Music, a cat lady, and a Nutella enthusiast. She received her BA and M.Ed from Arcadia University, attended Goldsmiths: University of London, Sarah Lawrence College, and is finishing up her MFA at Antioch University. When not poorly playing the piano, she chronicles the many ways that she embarrasses herself at the website youlifeisnotsogreat.com. She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug that has a smug poodle on it, and she’s not wonderful at writing in the third person.
A Flash Fiction
By Jane-Rebecca Cannarella
We fell asleep in the sun and when I woke up I was so sunburned that later on that night I got sick to my stomach. It was the summer that smelled like chlorine and cigarettes; we were staying at my parents’ friends’ house.
No one else we knew had a pool, and our fingers and toes became so prune-y that they developed sores from too many hours in the water. “My eyes feel like they’re going to bleed,” you said squinting from the chemicals; they looked greener than usual.
“1, 2, 3,” we would plunge under the water and shout a word; the other person had to guess the muffled sounds. On the third day you made me wear a shirt while we swam because the reflection would make my blistering skin worse.
Despite the zinc my nose began to peel and we left two days later.
In the autumn we broke back into the house to try and re-create the whole thing, but we uncovered the pool and found dirty leaves and frozen water.