It had been three weeks since Dana called, two since Mike texted, and one since Claire sent a postcard from Bangkok with the words, “Wish you were here!” scribbled on the back.
“No messages today, Lewis,” Jean said to the photo of her late husband, wiping dust off his face. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She went for her walk. Down the stone path, left at the end, three times around the block, and back for dinner. She made squash and set the table for one. She took Lewis off his mantle and placed him across from her.
“I saw an albino squirrel,” she told him. “It was eating a nut.” He would have laughed. She missed that a lot.
At ten on the dot, Jean donned her nightgown and slipped into bed. She counted eight more stains on the ceiling and made a mental note to call the painters in the morning.
Somewhere between four and six Jean woke up to a scratching at her window. She pulled the pillow over her head …..
Bio:
HALEY MAGRILL is a Canadian writer. Her work has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, the Anti-Languorous Project, the Cabinet of Heed, Dissections, Canadian Stories, Sequoia Speaks, and most recently the Quilliad. In 2020, her story “Flyer” was shortlisted for the Staunch Short Story Prize.