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 (felt.buzz)