Gray skies this morning.
Darlene abed.
Make her tea.
See she’s comfortable.
Tells me to quit my bothering. Calls me James.

Rain’s holding off.
Afternoon, split wood.
James?
Chop.
James.
Chop.

Dinner. Potato soup, chives.
Wipe the soup dribbling down her chin.
Won’t talk to me. Leastways, not to James.

Tim Boiteau lives in Michigan, is the author of the dark fantasy novel The Drummer Girl, and a Writers of the Future winner. See more at timboiteau.com.