At night, the headlights of cars are like vacant eyes. I stand in the living room, knee deep in life, and listen to the dogs in the neighborhood. I keep the photo of him in my kitchen drawer, on top of the pot holders. He says, ”I have always felt concerned about you.” In the middle of the morning, he promises me popcorn with real butter when I lose the weight. Some mornings he reminds me that I was an impossible person to touch. This makes me sad, and I move him to a lower drawer– the one with the guest dishes.
Meg Pokrass is the author of 8 flash fiction collections. She is the Founding Editor and Managing Editor at Best Microfiction, and the Flash Challenge Creator for Mslexia Magazine. She lives in Inverness, Scotland.