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Weekly Contest #375
The first thing Renee saw when she came home was the glass. It glittered across the hardwood in tiny, wet-looking pieces, though nothing in the house was wet. She stood just inside the front door with her hospital bag hanging from one hand and stared down at the fragments scattered beneath the umbrella stand. There had been a photograph there once. She knew that because the frame was still leaning crookedly against the wall, its glass punched inward as though someone had struck it from the front. The photograph itself was gone. Only a strip ...
Weekly Contest #374
My mother was buried on a Thursday, and on Friday morning the first flower appeared. I noticed it while standing at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee between my hands. In the thin uncertain light of morning, the grass was wet with dew and silvered at the tips, and the woods beyond it stood black and close, as though they had spent the night leaning nearer. They were not flowers I had planted. They were not flowers my mother had planted, either. They were standing beneath my mother's bedroom window. White. Delicate enough that the wind ...
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