“I won’t, Mummy.”
“Darling, please. We can’t. Not today. Mummy doesn’t get paid til Friday.”
“If I can’t have it I’ll scream. I’ll know you don’t love me.”
“Oh, precious. Mummy loves you very much. Look, we’re getting the bear.” She flipped the tag to check the price and handed it to the boy. He hugged it close and pressed his face into the fluffy white fur.
It would be fine, she supposed, smiling. There was a bone of beef in the freezer to make a broth. She could stop at the market for carrots and peas and perhaps some barley. And flour for bread. Her stomach lapped at the thought. Belly-filling meals for the pair of them for the next five days, if not hearty ones.
The boy looked up. “White bear says she wants the tan one,” he said. “She told me.”
She eyed the price tag. “Very well then.” There would be soup, but no bread, she decided.
He wrapped his arms around both bears and squeezed. She turned to go.
“But Mummy! I want the brown one too.”
She let out an exasperated sigh and tightened her stomach. “Very well then.”
There would be broth.
To read more flash fiction inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button:
This has been an edition of Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the gracious Al Forbes. Al has been generous enough to host this weekly 200 word fiction challenge in spite of ongoing health issues. He’s now asking for participants to submit pictures of their own in order to continue the challenge.
Al, Thanks for your generosity. I love the luxury of 200 words and the chance to share stories with this lovely group. Look for photos coming your way!