His 90th birthday. Generations of his fawning brood, packing the house, pawing at his shoulders, counting down the days till their inheritance. Look at them now, clamouring for attention around his birthday cake. And I bet, thought Alfred, they’ve counted out every shitting candle.
Candles
in
Comments
One response to “Candles”
-
[…] giving up on writing novels or short stories. Indeed, I’ve been writing lots of flash fiction lately, if you’d like to have a read. But for the good of my mental health, I need to do […]
Leave a Reply