after the death
like a rope turning into grief-torn wisps
The hot tears
splashing on passers by
as if a funeral couldn’t possibly contain the torrent.
She cried for her brother
because – numb, unraveling, dieing with their mother
he could not cry for himself.
Grief splashes on a future
The challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Flash Fiction 55 is hosted by the G-man, a host with the most.