Fiction

The hypnotic tingling draws her inward. Her mind starts humming a tune she never dreamed of singing.

With trembling hands, Millie gently removed the lid of the urn and exhaled with the first release of gray powder.

She could choose, at least, which parts of him to cherish, and which parts to use as examples of how not to behave.

Hana leans into the second verse, singing about the loneliness of a songless bird. The music in my life is missing.

Our names were announced over the booming horde hailing the local girl making history. The bell tolled.

I am drawn to the train tracks and find the memory haunting. Because that’s how you died, my little brother.

I lay down on the couch ushered by my anguish. The clock ticks, backwards. I’m four again.

The late November grey hung in curtains all around them. And of course, greyest of all, on Leonard’s mood.

I shouldn’t say “should”, if I want to be happy. But who can be content while they are wasting borrowed time?