Culture

Glycerine

 

Startled, she woke up looking straight at the city lights of the night. Her heart beat widely while her mind was humming a night song. Her skin was moist as if it had been crying all night. Her tongue kept forming the word “kumao” and she did not know why.

She crawled down the stairs and the neighbor’s cat was standing on her kitchen table. If only she could be like the cat.

She had gifts to finish wrapping but sadly no one to give them to. Her skin kept dripping even in this harsh winter cold.

Maybe she would wrap the cat up.

FF_copyright-scott-l-vannatter© Scott L. Vannatter

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