“OK, Gramma. I’m ready to take you to church,” I called to her, holding the door with one hand and my sagging jeans with the other.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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It was hard not to be embarrassed. Her rheumy, faded hazel eyes needed a double coat of mascara to be seen behind her old-fashioned aviator eyeglasses. They were the same pair she’d worn for a decade, metal frames beyond straightening, the left lens scratched since the second week she owned them. Her skirt in faux-taffeta mauve rustled as she walked. She wore black scuffed ballet-type flats below and a cotton yellow turtleneck sweater above.
“OK, Gramma. I’m ready to take you to church,” I called to her, holding the door with one hand and my sagging jeans with the other.
Jennifer Duncan
26/8/2022 02:34:51 pm
Perfect last line - funny and apropos. Love the description of Grandma's outfit.
Sue Clayton
28/8/2022 07:21:55 am
In anyone's eyes, Grandma would be a beautiful style queen. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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