The Long Way Home (4)

Her mother opened the door, wrapped in a ratty brown housecoat. Forty years of hardscrabble life plowed across her forehead and around her mouth. She leaned across the doorway, like some kind of gatekeeper.

“So you found her,” she said. A hand-rolled cigarette hung limp and unlit, from the corner of her mouth. “Well, come in. My husband’ll be home soon. He has your money.”

Dzinski shuffled in behind the girl. They waited at the kitchen table. The radio played something mournful between coughs of static.

Heavy boots landed on the wooden front porch. Dzinski watched the girl tense up.

Prompt courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers. Read more stories here.

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24 thoughts on “The Long Way Home (4)

  1. “Forty years of hardscrabble life plowed across her forehead and around her mouth.” Wonderful description!
    I got a little confused with the mother, and then the switch to “the girl.” Are they the same person?

  2. Dear Craig,

    It’s not often that I really get into a FF serial. Yours is a brilliant exception. No wonder the girl ran away from home. What a great description of the mother. Lovely lady…NOT. I can’t wait to see where you’re taking this next. Waiting for the next installment.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

  3. Woah-what “gentle” folks-Mom seems roughened enough but I guess compared to her booted husband,she is an angel!Poor girl-I feel for her!Intriguing and loved the way you drew the characters:-)

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