She prayed each night before laying her head upon her makeshift pillow, thanking the good Lord above for her blessings.
It was the little things:
A new start—free from the terror of physical abuse.
Food in her belly, a bottle of water in the center console.
A crisp new library card and a stack of books by her side.
A rare parking space in a No-Tow-Zone and adjacent to a streetlight, to boot, where she could read until her eyelids grew heavy.
The soft blanket of snow insulating her temporary home.
Kindness of strangers.
A new job on Monday.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - January, 2023 Photo Prompt
Jacqueline: “Remember that Halloween at the Cinema-plex when we watched Chucky and Romeo snuck in a bottle of Jägermeister and got so wasted, he rolled down the aisle and chipped a tooth? Merde! C'était amusant.”
Ashley: “Yes! But it was Christmas and we watched Krampus. He tripped in Concessions and jambed his finger after smoking that blunt. Shit! That was funny.”
Romeo: “Uhm. We were bowling and it was Roberto. He dropped the ball on his toe. Cazzo! Questa era buona.”
Roberto: “¡Imbéciles! It was New Year’s Day and anaphylaxis at Ralph’s Vegan Burgers. ¡Maldito peanuts! I nearly died.”
Lisa H. Owens
January 2023 - Globe Soup Microfiction Monthly Contest
Keep it simple, Stupid!
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