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Weekly Contest #185
I’m up the hill a bit, behind that big gum with the peeling bark, in front of the swings. It’s my spot, where I wait for her while the other mothers, gathering on the basketball court directly outside the classroom, laugh, throwing their heads back, salon hair bouncing around perfectly made faces. Up here I am left alone, avoiding the looks from the clique below. If I was thirty years younger, I would launch fistfuls of tan bark at them and then duck behind the trunk, sniggering. At 3:18 on school days, I replace the blue microfibre cloth...
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