Mrs. Sullivan, Peggy, when he knew her, opened the apartment door. Her still-fierce, and playful eyes stared right through, as though he was a door-to-door salesman. When he realized she didn’t recognize him, he tried not to let the hurt show.

“Peggy,” he said, “It’s Frank.”

Her eyes softened and looked back in time. He flattered himself by imagining something like a smile on her mouth.

“It’s Margaret. What can I do for you Mr. Dzinski?”

“I just thought I might be able to help, if you needed it. With your son, I mean.”

She snorted, and slammed the door.

Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.


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