“Hey, Sweetie,” he looked at her over his newspaper, another dated reference in his life, “Whatcha got in there?”
Her gummy smile widened, “Bones.”
His inquisitive grin faded as the fuzz began to clear. He didn’t have a daughter.
Friday Flash Fiction |
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His head had felt off all morning, a cumbersome blend of fuzz and lightheadedness. He trusted his standard 7:30 brew would do the trick. The coffee can was alive in her hands with her persistent shake: clank, clank, clank. It was an old, ribbed Folgers aluminum, and he hoped it hadn’t rusted in its age. Heaven knows where she found it.
“Hey, Sweetie,” he looked at her over his newspaper, another dated reference in his life, “Whatcha got in there?” Her gummy smile widened, “Bones.” His inquisitive grin faded as the fuzz began to clear. He didn’t have a daughter.
Sue Clayton
24/9/2022 02:19:22 am
Spooky. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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