Flash Fiction: Simmer


Sunday dinner, and my best friend was coming over. Misty vapor rose from the pot simmering on the back burner, brimming with raw chicken throats.

I set Billy’s place at the table with a red and white checked place mat. I looked at the kitchen clock. Billy was late.

There was a little blood on the corner of Mom’s apron. I asked if she’d cut herself. She looked askance.

“I don’t like you hanging out with that boy,” she said. “He smokes. I seen him behind the dumpster at Carson’s Drug Store.”

“Mom, you didn’t,” I said. “Not again.”

~99 words

via Daily Prompt: Simmer


8 thoughts on “Flash Fiction: Simmer

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s