The Last Time, by Bruce Arbuckle

He wears a perfume of cigarettes, garlic and brandy. He reaches for the bottle.

Mummy says, *You’ve had enough.”

Then – to me – “You’re too big to sit on his lap.”

Then, “Where are you going?”

The door slams and we cry.

As if we both know this time it’s forever.

This 50-word story was written by Bruce Arbuckle using the Freewrite Writing Prompt on Hive,

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Bruce Arbuckle (


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