From the phone call to now in O’Hare, surrounded by noisy travelers, I’ve never felt so alone.
Daddy understood me. I was his mini-me. We had the same smile. The same hazel eyes. The same giggle. He made me feel as if I could do anything—even climb K2 if I wanted. Become an artist? “You’ll be a lady Picasso.”
“A widow-maker,” Mother said, self-importance bloating her tone. To her, he’d been dead for years.
If only it had been her, the adulteress, the drama queen, instead.
The last time we’d spoken, Daddy cajoled: “I’ve forgiven her, can’t you?”
No. Never.
Great piece that tells a whole story in so few words. Well done!
Thank you, Jean.
Loved this story.
Thank you so much, Brian.
Relationships are so hard…and sad. These few words make me want to know the rest of the story.
Thank you, Maggie.
I thought being perceived as “competition” by my mother was not a common thing. Now I wonder. I, too, want to know more of the story.
Thank you, Shoshauna.
It tells so much in so few words, love it!
Thank you so much, Anne.
Great story, Sascha.
Many thanks, Raymond.
Great story ??
Thank you, Katey.
Excellent piece of flash fiction. <3