I’ve seen her barely there body in the mornings hunting the downtown trash cans. I always tell myself I will bring her something to eat. I always forget. On the sidewalk I am now closer to her than I have ever been. I try not to look directly into her eyes, because I know I would see the abyss; the pain of existence, and orphans crying because they were born and it hurts. But my son’s mittened hand tugs at my gloved one. “Grandmas should always have a coat and gloves when it’s cold outside,” he says. He takes off his mittens and taps her arm. I hand her my gloves. We get into our parked car and start driving home with the heat blasting. Tears well up in my eyes; I feel small. I should have given her my coat.

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  1. Comedy is not your strong suit. Just sayin’.

  2. This was not intended as a comical piece or satire. Only someone of your callous caliber would regard this as such. 😛

  3. That’s me! I espeically loved “We get into our parked car” cause I though it might b rolling downhill while you are trying to jump into it or something.

  4. Yeah I could see you doing that with Aidan 🙂

    • teapartiesonneptune: the tea mistress of neptune is now away. She is playing croquet in a cave somewhere in hyperspace. This is an automated response. Please leave a message.

  5. jessiecarty

     /  January 15, 2010

    great piece! and this one i’d call flash fiction for you *wink*

  6. Thank you. I am a novice at writing flash fiction, and I do appreciate the feedback and constructive criticism.


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