I buried the last of my children last month, the last of five. My parents passed sixteen and eight years ago. Spouse, nine.

I have their memories and a few pictures. A drawer of greeting cards hastily signed. A deck of cards, their corners worn.

The mantle clock ticks. Beckons.

Jeff Switt is a retired advertising agency guy who loves writing flash fiction, some days to curb his angst, other days to fuel it. His words have been featured at Dogzplot, Boston Literary Review, Flash Fiction World, Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 Word Story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Word Stories, and Shotgun Honey, and have appeared at lots of places that take whatever you send in.