I was a girl. Rocking. Cradled. Soft, pink, warm arms wrapped
around me. A palm bigger than my face blocked the colours, then stroked my
hair. The colours returned; swarming and unfocused like the sound of a thousand
heartbeats gently thrumming in my ears, and the coochie-coos pining from my armpits prodded with index fingers. My
parents' mouths opened and closed. I felt warmth in my palm and held fast to
it.
Click here for more of my Daily Flash Fiction
No comments:
Post a Comment