An Absence

Three days after the wake, Deer was still eating the cold cuts left over from the platters and scraping the bottom of the bowl of macaroni casserole. She hadn’t left the house since it happened, hadn’t washed, hadn’t changed out of her black dress.

There was a heavy, imposed silence in the house, and she didn’t want to break it, so she shuffled softly from room to room, lying two fingers against a spine of a book, or wiping them through the dust on a shelf.

A fly buzzed and bumped at the overhead light. She stood underneath and stared.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s