A Bump in the Road
Microfiction
Melissa fills another draft and slides it toward another patron, who unsurprisingly gawks at her scrawny legs and translucent skin. She doesn’t know what these men – these prowlers of the night – are looking at, what they see in her. Misery is an aura that floats about her being.
She collects sodden, crumpled bills off the bar top and can’t help but think of the hospital, intravenous fluids, and morphine drips. The stench of cleaning solution mixed with soup of the day still permeates her nostrils, her insides. She sees white bedsheets and frail frames everywhere she looks. Gaunt skin and brittle bones are her world now.
As she contemplates her mother’s cancer — an incessant war of chemotherapy and disappointment — she spots the timeworn mechanic in the corner. They make eye contact for a moment. He smiles and winks. For some reason, it’s all she needs. Her mother’s old Dodge Lancer ignites her memory. Melissa sees it clearly in her mind: the cracked windshield, broken headlight, and spots of rust.
All at once, it hits her. Maybe this is just a bump in the road.
Thanks so much for reading!
Love this, Justin. So true....
Nicely done, Justin.