This is for the dverse prompt. 140 words of prose including the line from Charlotte Mew:
“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”
Last year’s thing
I always wanted happiness, like everyone else, but how do you measure it? I thought it was something I could hold in my hand, take out and polish, sit on my desk or hang on the wall. I could invite people round to admire it, lend it or invest it, watch it multiply. I didn’t realise that happiness is a ray of sun breaking through clouds, the brief flash of a swallow’s red throat, ephemeral as sunsets.
It was a thing with me, to collect objects that caught my eye, and one year, it was you. For the whole summer until the leaves began to turn I kept you by me, my exotic cat. But this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of you, last year’s thing. Not how you ended anyway. Even exotic cats only have nine lives.
This is for the dverse prompt. 140 words of prose including the line from Charlotte Mew: “This year’s a different thing, –I’ll not think of you.” Last year’s thing I always wanted happiness, like everyone else, but how do you measure it? I thought it was something I could hold in my hand, take out … Continue reading Last year’s thingRead MoreJane Dougherty Writes
