By Brian Taylor
Walking down the street, I see a shiny, heads-up penny lying on the ground.
When I was younger, Mom told me that if I ever found a heads-up penny, to give it to her, and it would bring us both good luck, and she would do the same.
Usually, nothing would happen, but occasionally finding one brought us some small piece of luck.
This penny, however, chills me inside. Mom’s home in bed, where she usually stays now. Fibromyalgia. She’s told me she sometimes wishes God would just take her and end her misery.
I walk on, leaving the penny untouched.
So well told. I’m right there with you.
Succinct & understated. Neat.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Beautifully written.