Scent of mown grass. Faint jingle of Brody’s tags, and the pull of his leash in her palm.
Down the street, Milo and Sasha splashing in the pool, and little Ben crying, “Wait for me!”
Then the honeysuckle sweetness hedging the Jones’ yard. She’d hardly noticed before her vision dimmed.
Jennifer L Freed mostly writes poems, but likes 50-word stories. Her website is jfreed.weebly.com.