Status: completed <3
Photos From A Dying Time
01
It's been six months now, six months without my baby. Without my angel. The photos never seemed enough. Always just glimpses of what was, and never will be again. I was a pathetic excuse of a mother. My fingers gripped the handle of the cart, I stopped short of the end of canned goods. My eyes clenched shut as my chest constricted violently, and just as quickly as it came it left, only leaving a hollow hole where my heart should have been. I dumped a few cans of tomato sauce and various fruits into the cart. I pushed it down around the corner to the fresh food. I passed by the vegetables and fruit and meat, stopping to grab a thing of eggs and half gallon of milk.
“It's not healthy to live off of preservatives you know.” I glanced to my right, an elderly woman carrying a small hand basket between her wrinkled claws. Her tiny face seemed gently but stern, just like a mothers. The small gold rimmed circular glasses balanced on her crooked nose, greatly overwhelming her small face.
“Doesn't matter when you have nothing to live for.” I muttered before shoving the car angrily down the aisle, kicking open one the freezer doors, pulling a tub of Rocky Road from the chilled environment. I dropped it into the car with a heavy clang. Done with my weekly shopping I meandered up to the checkout, getting in a line behind five other people, their carts over flowing.
I sighed, resting my head on my arms that laid atop the handle. I was in no rush to get anywhere, no place I had to be, and no one who wanted to see me. My eyes flickered up to the ceiling when the lights flickered silently. “Great, it's a torrential downpour.” I mumbled into my long sleeve.
“Ma'am, I can take you over here.” A boy no older then sixteen called from a few aisles down. I slowly straightened up before lugging the cart over to him, and just as slowly placing my few items on the conveyor belt. “I see you're back again, Ms. Stuwert. Nothing healthy again, which you really shouldn't make a habit of.”
“Lecture me when you've finished puberty.” I hissed, grabbing my plastic bags and marching out of the story and down the sidewalk, my clothes instantly drenched. I couldn't see, but the walk was short, and something I did every few days. I rounded the small corner onto my gravel driveway, my feet slipping slightly over the slick rocks.
“Where have you been!” I squinted my eyes to try and make out the figure standing on my porch, suitcases surrounding them. I hadn't invited anyone, and nobody ever visited, not since the funeral anyways. “It's been pouring for about an hour now, and you're dripping wet!” I sighed, noticing the accent anywhere. I wiped my feet at the mat at the bottom of the steps.
“Hello to you too, Jenn. Not to be a hermit or anything, but why are you here?” I said dropping the bags by the door to fish my keys from the pocket of my sweat pants.
“Because someone never gave me a key, I'd rather be inside making you a real dinner instead of frozen dessert and fruit jubilee.” She stated eying my shopping bags.
“I meant, what are you doing here, at my house, just out of the blue.” I grumbled, picking up the dripping bags after opening the door, but I barely made it inside before dropping them.
“Mom sent me stay with you for good.”
“It's not healthy to live off of preservatives you know.” I glanced to my right, an elderly woman carrying a small hand basket between her wrinkled claws. Her tiny face seemed gently but stern, just like a mothers. The small gold rimmed circular glasses balanced on her crooked nose, greatly overwhelming her small face.
“Doesn't matter when you have nothing to live for.” I muttered before shoving the car angrily down the aisle, kicking open one the freezer doors, pulling a tub of Rocky Road from the chilled environment. I dropped it into the car with a heavy clang. Done with my weekly shopping I meandered up to the checkout, getting in a line behind five other people, their carts over flowing.
I sighed, resting my head on my arms that laid atop the handle. I was in no rush to get anywhere, no place I had to be, and no one who wanted to see me. My eyes flickered up to the ceiling when the lights flickered silently. “Great, it's a torrential downpour.” I mumbled into my long sleeve.
“Ma'am, I can take you over here.” A boy no older then sixteen called from a few aisles down. I slowly straightened up before lugging the cart over to him, and just as slowly placing my few items on the conveyor belt. “I see you're back again, Ms. Stuwert. Nothing healthy again, which you really shouldn't make a habit of.”
“Lecture me when you've finished puberty.” I hissed, grabbing my plastic bags and marching out of the story and down the sidewalk, my clothes instantly drenched. I couldn't see, but the walk was short, and something I did every few days. I rounded the small corner onto my gravel driveway, my feet slipping slightly over the slick rocks.
“Where have you been!” I squinted my eyes to try and make out the figure standing on my porch, suitcases surrounding them. I hadn't invited anyone, and nobody ever visited, not since the funeral anyways. “It's been pouring for about an hour now, and you're dripping wet!” I sighed, noticing the accent anywhere. I wiped my feet at the mat at the bottom of the steps.
“Hello to you too, Jenn. Not to be a hermit or anything, but why are you here?” I said dropping the bags by the door to fish my keys from the pocket of my sweat pants.
“Because someone never gave me a key, I'd rather be inside making you a real dinner instead of frozen dessert and fruit jubilee.” She stated eying my shopping bags.
“I meant, what are you doing here, at my house, just out of the blue.” I grumbled, picking up the dripping bags after opening the door, but I barely made it inside before dropping them.
“Mom sent me stay with you for good.”
♠ ♠ ♠
1/3