Burial

He was in the backyard digging a small hole at the foot of the pine, to bury his son’s goldfish, when he noticed the neighbour standing on the deck, staring at him. She was all cocked hips and unruly hair, wearing an oversized tank top and rolling a cigarette. He placed the cardboard box in the hole and filled it with dirt.

“Not much of a gardener,” she said, suddenly behind him.

He turned, his face creased in curiosity.

She inhaled, pushing her chest out, letting him notice she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Our fish died.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

 

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