“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” It’s a cruel joke. He knows I haven’t seen my mother in over a decade. I’ve forgotten her face, how her lips kissed away nightmares.
“I’ve been at the school.” He sits the open duffle bag on the counter, and I know there’s a girl in the trunk.
I fear I’ve grown too old. I don’t see my face on the news anymore. Amazing technology — how they added twelve years to my nine-year-old picture, and it looks exactly like me.
Maybe he won’t kill me. Maybe I’ll see my mother again. Maybe the new girl will find home again too — one day, when she’s no longer a child.
Join Moral Mondays, a new weekly challenge to write a 100-word fable or story based on the moral/lesson provided in the prompt. This past week’s moral: better late than never