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Yesterday was one of my parents' bad days. I'm having to write this letter, because, well, the typewriter broke.
She broke it. Tossed it outside, more like. It tumbled onto the grass, several keys breaking off.
She saw me using it and snatched it away, calling it trash.
I begged her. But she didn't care.
After it was over, I couldn't fight the tears. My insides fractured like the typewriter. This was the last thing of yours I'd allowed myself to keep.
I managed to use the last of my savings for a mechanic.
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YOU ARE READING
Out of Ink | A Short Story
Historia Corta❝What if he didn't leave ... what if he disappeared?❞ highest rank: #27 in SS 1st place for Best Tragedy in the Crystal Awards 2016/2017 2nd place for Short Story in the Crystal Awards 2016/2017
