Soft-poached eggs in a quivering heap on my plate. A stab of my fork and the yolks bleed heavy and slick. My belly cramps like a memory. I wolf the eggs down, as if they might replace the ones I’ve lost. As if they might make the next one stick.
Sumitra writes in Naarm/Melbourne. She has won the Writer’s Playground and WOW! Competitions. Words in Jaggery Lit Mag, National Flash Fiction Day, Every Day Fiction, Cheap Pop and upcoming in Janus Literary and The Hooghly Review. She works in mental health. Her twitterings: @pleomorphic2
Beautiful, heartbreaking and deep. The poor woman has miscarried another child. This story tore me to pieces. A masterpiece!
Thank you! That’s so kind of you to read and comment!
So much depth and feeling in so few words. This is just brilliant, sad, and moving.
Thank you Finn! It’s really lovely of you to say so!
This is heart breakingly wonderful.
Thank you Sue!
Pinpoint visceral imagery and incredible layering for such a short piece. Gut-wrenching.
Heartbreaking and brilliantly penned. And to do it in so few words—outstanding.