“Did you have a good day?” my husband asks.
A loaded question.
The answer? A load of crap. “Yes.”
Sometimes it is good. On the outside.
I talk about things my son and I did that day. The things that went well, the things that did not.
What I remember of it. I wasn’t really there. I was worrying and letting my mind wander into what-ifs.
I am here. Now.
I sit on the floor next to my son’s bed weeping uncontrollably. I try not to wake him. My body aches from stifling sobs.
I am in the moment.
January 7th Prompt: Being (Write a story that describes a moment of being)
Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch
