I smell my mother's perfume.
The sun: blistering.
Eyes drying with the heat.
I hear a cry.
Mum once said I had distinct cries as a baby; hunger being different from pain.
Never gave it much thought then but now? This cry is definitely pain.
Sweat running down my face.
I blink to clear blurred vision.
It doesn't work.
I raise my hand to wipe the sweat.
The sun: our burning car.
I have been thrown clear.
I know why the screaming made me think of mum.
Upon waking I can always smell my mother's perfume.
Neville Hunt over 6 years ago
Wow, this is moving. A good Drablr first, Shaun.