Bitter winds funnelled at the crossroads where Sarah stood, rummaging through crumpled slips in her handbag. She read silently: lemons, whiskey. Dabbing at rheumy eyes she continued the search. Unsent card, another list: aspirin, loaf, ham.
Inside was warm and the basket heavy when she reached the checkout. She waited in silence until jolted back by the assistant: £27.68, looked at the ten-pound in her hand, then at the counter. Bread? Whiskey? She mouthed apologies and removed the unwanted items.
With new resolve Sarah stepped out, the bottle nestled to her breast, aspirin in her palm. She was going home.
My second ‘Drabble’. A tad darker than the first although the storyline can be open to interpretation. I enjoy the discipline of the 100 words as it forces a paring down that affords a half-way house between prose and poetry.
marilyn unmasked 