In the year 1970, a father, daughter, son, and step-mother sit under the tree, emulating the perfect nuclear family. The daughter stands, taking the football from her brother with one hand and straightening her green plaid shorts with the other. The son shoves the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and hops up. The two of them toss the ball back and forth while the step-mother watches in adoration and the father struggles to fix the breaking bread of his food. This is the last day the four of them have together before school begins once again.
In the year 2020, a father, mother, and three daughters sit under a tree. They look around nervously, shoving thier sandwiches down their gullets before slipping masks made from bandanas and ponytail holders on their faces. They toss a Frisbee back and forth before slathering hand sanitizer on their hands and getting back into the car. They shove the picnic blanket in the back and argue over who will take care of it when they get home. A month from now, school will be out for the three girls; a month from now, the two oldest will graduate. Whether or not they will move out is unclear; life has been uncertain lately.
The tree has been here for years, as vibrant and strong as ever.
YOU ARE READING
Snow On The Tombstones: A Collection of Flash Fiction and Vignettes
Short StoryA young man makes a serious mistake; an extraterrestrial explorer makes contact with an old temple; a group of friends sneak into an amusement park after hours; we are all tombstones; we are all here and gone.
