Flash Fiction by David

I found a box turtle this morning. She stood motionless in the garden shade, peeking over the white clover. I walked away. In the afternoon, I looked for her but she was gone. There was a quick trip to the grocery store at supper time. Coming back, driving into the sun, pulling into the driveway, I felt and heard a crunch. Looking in the rearview, I found her again: the turtle, mortally flattened. I buried her just now–near that garden spot, in the blooming clover. A plump toad came to eulogize her. “Hop away, my friend. I’m a dangerous man.”