The rain had pinned the last of October’s skittering leaves to the curb, where they lay rotting.
Last year she was soccer mom, wearing a rut in the road from Daisytowne to Oak Park.
Last year, Thanksgiving was a bother, tacked on the end of the choral follies, with Steve’s mom staying for more than a week. Last year she was putting away Em’s princess costume and stewing because no manufacturer could actually make a coat to last a kid from one winter to the next. Last year, she was making apple pies for the fundraiser, swatting at the powder of flour on Emily’s nose, saying things that started with when you grow up.
Last year– —
she had had Thanksgiving but was not grateful.
This year, there would be neither.
This has been flash fiction inspired by Al Forbes’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. To read more or submit your own, click the blue froggy button: