An exercise in brevity.
Unprepared
She studies the rust spots on the ancient clawfoot tub, tears in her eyes.
Above the lavender-scented bubbles, juts the rise of her belly; an island of olive-colored skin. She wipes a wet cloth over the rise, watches the track of baby oil beads.
She’s 16, on the cusp of adulthood.
Nowhere ready.
“Baby,” she whispers.
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5 comments:
Criminy.
First its a drabble, now a drab.
If anything with more poignancy.
Have I mentioned haiku before...
Congratulations.
Ooh. This is intense.
The fiction in 58 mambo is rather fun. :D
Ooh. This is intense.
The fiction in 58 mambo is rather fun. :D
So full of everything that ever was sweet and sad, this one moment, captured by these very few words. Very nice : )
You have very beautifully captured feelings in short and concise story, great work.
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