She has to have her cigarettes. Buys them with the baby food money. Buys a six-pack, too. She lights up; first drag is always the best. She drops it in the sand, crushes it. She chugs the beer, staggers, falls into the moonlit surf.
She gave the baby up today.
Kavanaugh’s poetry, prose, and photographs have appeared in Melancholy Hyperbole, When Women Waken, and Blotterature. She travels the scenic route between St. Pete, Florida and the Off Campus Writers Workshop (OCWW) in Winnetka, Illinois. When she’s not writing, she’s listening, picking up slices of life or shells on a beach.
Such a sad story, great visualization. The saddest part to me is we all know this person. Well done.
Excellent story. Very descriptive. Sadly, this happens in real life all too often.
It amazes me when someone can capture story in so few words. This leaves me wanting to read more.
Very powerful scene and narrative in so few words. Well done–even though it makes me sad.