“Of course you’ll want the rose quartz too, amazing for emotional fortitude in difficult times.”
Simon sat, swinging his feet, kicking a stand with stinking candles as his mother struggled to lift the small plastic bag filled with rocks.
“Simon! Stop it! I’m sorry sir, of course I’ll take it. What’s this one?”
“You have a good eye ma’am. This is a citrine or yellow quartz…”
Simon rolled his eyes and resumed kicking. He hated this place and its empty promises.
He hated the stink of ‘chemical-free’ candles.
He hated the stink of his sick mother’s desperation.
Howdy – time for another 100 word piece for this week’s Friday Fictioneers (thinking about it, I never do these on a Friday. Hmmm..). Anyway, thanks again Rochelle. Click here to read the rest of the stories.
Let me know what you think.