This little 100 word piece is linked to week 180 of Saturday Centus. To read other little stories, just click here.
What it is in the still dark yard that catches his distant eye?
I attempt brittle conversation…
Talk to him like he’s here.
He is still here.
Weary of one-side conversations I flip on the TV.
It’s the usual daily dribble-drabble of stupidity.
Hey, it’s at least some noise in my now tomb-like house.
I do inane tasks.
Each time stop to check him, I dabble the dribble from his lips.
He continues to stare at TV.
OHMYGODOHMYGOD! He blinked! He blinked when I wiped his lips.
OHMYGODOHMYGOD! He’s coming back! He’s coming back!