A Brief Encounter

Grandfather died last night. The funeral is Friday. Please bring his uniform. Dan

The words tightened my throat. I saw my grandmother place the phone in its cradle, carefully. Grandpa died this morning. Nothing more. She sat at the kitchen table; folded her hands on the white enamel top. Grandma’s hands quiet?

Thick stationary in my hand. Addressed to Betty. No address. No stamp. A million Bettys in this city.

I’d seen the envelope on the sidewalk below the corner mailbox, thought someone dropped it, the flap open.

Loss filled my eyes. At the corner trash can, I placed it on a crushed newspaper, carefully.



10 thoughts on “A Brief Encounter

  1. I like this one! I’ll have to check out this challenge. Writing 101. I could use some help to get going on a big project. I’m procrastinating big-time.

    1. Well, Cielo, I’ve been writing for about 10 times longer than you! Hopefully I’m getting better, but “better job” isn’t the point. I thought you did a fine job condensing the idea.

  2. Many are ending posts with grief – but that ” placed it on a crushed newspaper, carefully.” That phrase – the word choice and structure – excellent! Also like the detail of the white enamel top…a cold surface, too.
    Gold star. (word count – ha! Write until it’s said and then stop. You did it)

I love conversations! Let's start one.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.