Unnoticed, I behold your future self from across the bistro.
Interactions are forbidden, but just to see you – all grown up – is grace immeasurable. Goodness, you’re the image of your mother.
I inform her, back in the present. She weeps by my hospice bed, rocking you gently in her arms.
Jez Poyner lives in Manchester, UK. He writes on his phone at night, whilst his wife sleeps beside him. His daughter also looks more like her mother than her father.
Ugh. That one left a pang.
Glad it had an impact!
Indeed, it did. Well done. :)
Exquisitely heart breaking
Thanks for commenting!
This is the best story for a long time. Well done.
Very kind words. So glad you enjoyed it!
A lovely story. One of the best I have read in a long time.