Forelsket
A Flash Fiction by Ralph Storer
This story was shortlisted in the 2026 WestWord Prize
Since Jane had walked into Carl’s life exactly 36 days ago, it was as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Just thinking about her made him feel lighter. Instead of trudging along the pavement as though he had dumbbells strapped to his legs, he now bounded along like an Olympic long-jumper taking his run-up. His friends had even begun to remark on the new spring in his step.
Prompted by their comments, he bought a set of bathroom scales and weighed himself. To his astonishment, not only had he lost weight, but subsequent weighs indicated he was getting lighter by the week. When the digital display nudged below 120lbs, he bought a second set of scales from a different maker to verify the figure. There was no mistake. His increasing levity was no flight of fancy.
It was all very puzzling as he was unaware of any change in diet or lifestyle. Even more curiously, when he looked in the mirror, he looked no thinner and his trousers still fitted just as snugly around the waist.
As the weeks passed, he noticed that whenever he thought of Jane, he became so light that his feet almost left the ground. Then one night they did just that. In the warm air of his centrally-heated bedroom, buoyed by visions of her loveliness and divested of the ballast of his clothes, his body rose like a hot-air balloon and hovered in an upright posture a couple of feet above the still-keenly-etched imprint of his feet in the deep-pile carpet. When a memory of her last phone call added to the image in his mind, he rose even further.
Unencumbered by gravity, his body landed softly on the ceiling and spread-eagled beside the light fitting. Flat on his back, he lay for a moment to consider his situation, then he turned onto his knees and crawled upside-down across the ceiling to the wall. From here he worked his way down with his hands flat against the wallpaper for friction. Once grounded, he managed to ensconce himself beneath the restraining security of a well-tucked-in duvet and slept peacefully without further anti-gravity hindrance.
The following morning brought no respite from his floatability, but he discovered that his new levitational power had unexpected advantages. Instead of bumbling around the apartment bumping into and tripping over things, he could now glide around in the manner of a hovercraft, using tables, chairs, worktops and various items of furniture and fitments for purchase. For breakfast he found he could sit at the table by hooking his knees under the table-top.
Then, this being a Saturday, it was necessary to visit the local store for groceries. To increase his gravitational pull, he tied a dumbbell to each calf inside flared trousers.
The leg-weights made him waddle with the unsteady gait of a toddler, but no-one seemed to notice. Indeed, as he passed his neighbours in the corridor and on the stairwell, they seemed unusually sociable.
“Have a nice day, Carl” they called out.
“How’re you doin’, Carl?” they wanted to know.
He’d forgotten how kind his neighbours were. It was as though they’d all come out just to wish him well. One even held the apartment block’s entrance door open for him. He resolved to spend more time with them.
As he shuffled along the pavement on his way to the store, the dumbbells worked a treat until he attempted to hurry across a road junction and the left one fell out. His leg rose into the air and, anchored by his right leg, he was pirouetted by a sudden gust of wind. A passing cyclist touched his baseball cap in greeting. How friendly people were this morning.
He now found he could make better progress by leaving the dumbbell behind and hopping along the pavement using garden fences for security. An ornamental fence provided the most reliable handholds. A rusty iron fence required more care. An uncapped brick wall proved the most challenging. But it seemed to be working. Passers-by smiled at him indulgently, as though oblivious to any eccentricity.
All went well until he heard one mumble knowingly to her partner, “He must be in love.” At this, the second dumbbell fell from his leg and his body inverted, executing a handstand on a wiry yard fence.
Now he could advance only by pulling himself along, hand over hand, while his feet hovered above him. This too proved an effective strategy until he had to cross another road junction.
Luckily, two kind-hearted construction workers were more than happy to help. Taking a leg each, they righted him and carried him across, his body floating upright between them, his arms raised. Anyone who didn’t know he was in love might have thought the three of them were practicing some acrobatic manoeuvre.
They deposited him at the foot of the large apartment block they were working on and left him clinging to a drainpipe.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Not at all,” said one.
“Any time,” said the other.
And with a friendly wave, and a tip of their hard hats, they left him to continue on his way.
Only then did he realise there was no obvious way forward beside the stark concrete wall of the building… and maintaining a hold on the slippery drainpipe was proving increasingly challenging. As his grip loosened, he compensated by squeezing the downspout between his knees, but this too was no more than a temporary measure.
As his knee-hold slackened, his body re-inverted, his hands slipped free and he began to slide gently up the side of the building feet-first. A small crowd gathered below to wave affectionately to him. Briefly his foot caught on the rooftop rain gutter. A few moments later he could be seen clinging to a chimney pot. Then he soared into the sky, passed a cloud, became a distant dot and was gone.
Author: Ralph is best known for his award-winning series of guidebooks to Scotland. His other books include the novel Love Scenes, The Joy of Hillwalking and The Sex Trivia Quiz Book. His latest book on Corrour Bothy won the Outdoor Writers & Photographers Guild award for best outdoor book of 2021.