I wrote this for this week’s Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle 100 words (or so) based on the photo prompt below. Come join us!
At The Birthday Supper
It was Mother’s birthday. She was 85. Maybe she’d remember it was her
favorite restaurant.
“Where are all my things?” she asked.
“What things, Mother? Those things that you didn’t want to leave when you were 50?”
“I remember that birthday. You took me for supper then, too. I don’t know why I never left him. Do you remember?” Mother was cutting an asparagus spear.
“I guess, like he said, he thought you were ethereal and that meant something no one else could ever understand.”
“At the end, he wouldn’t even hold my hand.”
“Don’t look back, Mother.” I squeezed her hand.
Ellespeth
photo Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau
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