Gone are the summers where she stood in the downtrodden orchard picking leathery tangerines with white fuzzy splotches, trying to find a good one. Gone are the melted ice cream nights on the unmown lawn next to the golden retriever who, when she lifted his paws, danced in her arms.
Meg Pokrass lives in the Scottish Highlands. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals including New England Review, Electric Literature and Five Points. She’s the founding editor of Best Microfiction.
Good grief, Meg!
This line!
“Gone are the summers where she stood in the downtrodden orchard picking leathery tangerines with white fuzzy splotches, trying to find a good one.”
Yikes. You took me there.
So good!
Great piece. I think we’ve crossed paths on Substack or thru Kathy.
Lovely language, evocative imagery. Well done.
What a beautiful, sensory-rich snapshot of a story.