We Wait

She clutches her pearls in what has become a habitual gesture. At least her eyes are dry. Cried out, probably.

“I’m glad you came, anyway,” she says, the last word an accusation.

“It was the least I could do,” I answer lamely, thinking so that’s what I  did. The least I could do.

“Your brother was… well, you know how he was.”

“You always said he took after Dad.”

This makes her smile, but it isn’t happy. “Yes,” she says. “I suppose I did.”

I try on a brusque tone. “Now that I’m here, what do we do?”

“We wait.”

Friday Fictioneers

10 comments

Add Yours

Don't just stand there.