I once knew a woman who mixed meatloaf with a spoon. I was just a kid, but even I knew better. Her husband left her when I was sixteen, and she was forty-three with four young ones still at home. Her oldest daughter lived in the city, was twenty four and only one and half years younger than the girl her father married.
Flash Fiction Fridays
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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"I foresee the successful future of a very mediocre society."
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