A growing sinkhole,
pulling in trees, road, a home.
Sorrow, blue, consumes.
About the Creator
Glenn Brown
I have a driver's license.
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More stories from Glenn Brown and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lap Cat
My nose is dripping, and Delia is tracing her fingers through my hair. Her husband is shirtless by the microwave, heating up leftovers from New Year's Eve. In 60 seconds, I'll be shoving mouthfuls of risotto between my quivering lips like a child and picking at semi-stale dinner rolls. Then, I'll pass my plate to one of their three Tabby cats (whom I can never tell apart) and let him/her/them (?) lick it clean.
By Erin Latham Shea2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it!
great work