Ma drove because Pa couldn’t. Before today, I didn’t even know she knew how.
She wasn’t the Ma you’d remember. No softness, no comfort. She’d become some creature of fierce strength, red-rimmed eyes, and a steel spine. I appreciated this strength, this steel. So did Pa, I think.
There was no talking. No radio. The only sound was the low growl of Pa’s old Ford as we left the funeral, a deep vibration pushing up through the seat, echoing in the hollow space in my chest.
The back seat was cavernous. You weren’t there, but I stayed on my side.
My entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneer’s 100 word photo prompt challenge, The aim is to write a story – beginning, middle, and end – in no more than 100 words.
The other stories can be found here. Check them out and leave some comments, or maybe even contribute your own :).
I like comments too, so let me know what you think, positive or negative.