“We leave in five minutes,” he said.
Grey hairs muzzled out of his nostrils like worn felt. He smelled like ammonia. A holstered Leatherman dangled from his belt.
He was my last chance.
I glanced past him, at the smoke rising from the snowy yard.
“I can’t go,” I said.
Sean Higgins lives in an old farmhouse in Ypsilanti, Michigan with his wife and three insane cats. He works as an editor for a Research Firm. His work has been published in Bartleby Snopes.
“Did you hear me? I’m leaving you.”
“Yes, dear. Can you make me something to eat before you go?”
“Are you dense? I said I’m leaving you!”
“Mmhmm. Will you be gone long this time?”
She dropped her suitcase and leaned against the open door. “Is a tuna sandwich okay?”
Margaret Glover is an RN and writer of short stories, drabbles and poetry. She has had work published in Familius, 101Fiction, The Were-Traveler and Writers Haven. Her passions are reading, writing and traveling the country.