“Maybe he was abducted by aliens,” she mused, pondering her life’s Great Tragedy for the millionth time. As you do when an after school café date turned into The Day Dad Left, abandoning bike and daughter. “Why would his bike be there? It doesn’t make sense.”
Sometimes she tried to romanticize it, “Maybe he was in danger, and left to protect me.” But what kind of danger could a hardware store clerk be in, really?
Usually she wound up in the same place: “He didn’t give a shit about me.” “Like I don’t about him,” she quietly lied to herself.
My latest Friday Fictioneers entry. Old ones (and they are a few months old now), can be found @ the following links: