Joint Pain

 

I don’t have a happy place.

I saw someone talking about it in a dumb Disney movie. Can’t remember which one. They’re always on in the background at Sam’s house. His little sister watches those things like her life depends on it. Shit, maybe it does. What do I know? Maybe that’s her happy place. Maybe that’s her lifeline or something. Hell of a lot better than mine. Or Sam’s.

He hands me the joint he lifted from his mum’s purse. I fish matches out of my pocket and we wait for the smoke to kill the stench of neglect and the pain of our bruises to fade.

 

 

This is part of a weekly writing prompt hosted by Sacha Black.

Writespiration #77 Prompt: Going to your ‘happy place’

 

Sarah Brentyn Reef Flash Fiction - sig -

 

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16 thoughts on “Joint Pain

  1. Your story cut me to the quick, Sarah. This line especially, “we wait for the smoke to kill the stench of neglect and the pain of our bruises to fade”. It’s so sad, and not the type of “joint pain” I was at first envisioning. You are the queen of flash fiction.

    Liked by 1 person

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