Confession
Lit Up — June’s Prompt: Lucky sentence
She could keep a secret.
— from “Elizabeth Figures It Out,” a short story in The Dog Thief and Other Stories by Jill Kearney
“This is important, child.”
Annette hated that word. She’d spent three decades impressing her capability upon people, her maturity, her intelligence. She had left childhood behind when most of her peers were running door to door yelling, “Trick or treat!” Her mother, of all people, should know that.
Mother’s wrinkled hand lifted from the white sheet and gently pushed Annette’s golden hair back from her face. Her old blue eyes met her daughter’s matching middle-aged ones. “You hear me?”
“Of course.” She twined her fingers with her mother’s, forcing herself to smile in mock patience. “Only tell me quickly. They’ll be here with your dinner any minute now.”
Mother turned her head and coughed. “I feel myself slipping away. Like the edge of sleep, when you don’t quite know what’s real and what’s a dream.”
“Nonsense. You’re just tired.” For all her maturity, Annette had to admit that patience still challenged her. She had tired of her mother’s games years before. This particular one…
