MicroZine Image Prompt #3
Vestiges of hope. Cracked. Leaking. Gone.
STRANDED, 50 words
I remember, Mama, when I was five you’d lay me down on the kitchen drainboard to wash my hair in the sink, a washrag over my eyes to keep out the soap.
Now you’re gone, and I’m stranded here with thousands of small memories of how much I was loved.
Vestiges of hope. Cracked. Leaking. Gone.
STRANDED, 50 words
I remember, Mama, when I was five you’d lay me down on the kitchen drainboard to wash my hair in the sink, a washrag over my eyes to keep out the soap.
Now you’re gone, and I’m stranded here with thousands of small memories of how much I was loved.