Frog Looks Back
He had lived there so long, in his forest of grass, that he only remembered flashes of his former life. Like the pop of the paparazzi’s cameras — quick frames of hangover mornings, thin false smiles, fake friends who would run at the drop of a dollar.
What had he done to earn the reward of solitude? Jilted a witch? Spurned a wizard? His royal world brought down to a muddy pond littered with flies.
Even so, when she stooped to offer a kiss, he turned from the lipstick smear of her lips. Regretting nothing, he’d choose to stay a frog.
First published in Microfiction for Lunch