His room didn’t smell good, a bit like the changing rooms after cross country. The only light was pushing its way in through a slit in the curtains.
“Who knows you’re here?”
It felt like a throw away question. Like he didn’t even care what my answer was.
That made it so much worse.
As soon as I answered his little smile made me wish I’d thought first, made me want to grab the word back, swap it for another one.
Change it for a comforting one like Mum or Dad.
But sometimes they were OK. Weren’t they?
Neville Hunt 7 months ago
This is brilliant, Lisa. I took the time to reread it because at first read I missed it, thinking it innocent. And then... well I won’t spoil it for others!
Jeff Taylor 7 months ago
A drabble that really has to be read properly and slowly to fully understand it. Well worth the effort from both sides, writer and reader!