A Piece of Micro-Fiction:
It
was midnight. She got up from her bed
because she was hungry and Mom had made brownies that afternoon. Her room was dark, but she could see the
light from the hallway shine in from beneath her door. She saw the light in the kitchen was off, so
she would go downstairs to see if Grandpa had any snacks. She definitely didn’t want to wake up Mom and
Dad after the week they had. Apparently
Nana had gone to see Jesus but hadn’t come back yet.
She
began the descent down the stairs to Grandpa’s apartment, step by step, blanket
in hand. The rickety wooden railing
wobbled in her grasp. She could see the
shadowy living room come into view through the rails as she neared the bottom. Nana’s rocking chair was still empty.
Grandpa
was already in bed and she didn’t want to disturb him. She tip-toed through the dining room on the
creaky floor boards, past his bedroom door that was ajar, and headed to the
kitchen. The cupboards were too high for
her to reach, so she searched the room for the step stool that Nana always let
her use when they baked together. She
could certainly bake brownies on her own.
Her
grandfather woke to the crashes and thuds in the next room over.
She
woke up to find herself sitting on the floor of the downstairs kitchen.
Her
parents ran down to find her there, white as a ghost, covered in flour.
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