My latest Flash! Friday entry based on utilizing the concept of “coming of age” with this photo prompt:
Tethers detach with ease, whimsical, they are.
She breathed heavy into the hem of my dress, a hiccup of a sob, then the breathing again. My hand, numb, patted her frizzled hair. Like this most nights. Since she was born, too.
The moisture from the night air flirted with my nostrils, tantalizing. That’s when I knew it would happen. There’s never an epiphany. Just is. Just will be. Then.
Neighbors would come eventually, once the sobbing had properly coated their walls. Guilt tinged, then fleeted, no time for it.
I had waited and waited. The far-off distance beckoned with the promise of a tryst, of something enthralling. Not this. Not overflowing dishes, threads and needles, and late night head-patting.
The moon’s glint seemed sardonic in the night sky, as if aware of what I was to do. But the moon was a mistress I didn’t answer to.
She had come of age next morning and I had come and gone.