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Jun 2018
Can I bring him
home for lunch?
Yiska asked.

When? I need notice;
can't have you
bringing him home
without I know.

Her mother was at
the kitchen sink.

Yiska ate her breakfast,
studying her mother's back.


She paused eating.

As long as you
don't make a habit of it.

Her mother turned
and stared at her.

Don't see why
you need to bring
the boy home for lunch;
can't he get lunch
at the school?

Yiska stared
at her mother.

Just so you
can meet him.

Her mother
raised an eyebrow.

Why do I need
to meet him?
You're too young
for boys.

Her mother turned
away again;
busied herself
at the sink.

He's only one boy,
not boys.

Yiska ate again.

The ashtray was full
of cigarette ends;
some with lipstick
on the tips.

Just this once;
no funny business.

Yiska gazed
at her mother's hair
tied in a bun
at the back.

Funny business?
What do you mean
funny business?

Her mother's
shoulders tensed.

You know
what I mean.

Yiska sipped
the luke-warm tea.


Her mother nodded
her head
and switched on
the radio.

Music oozed out.

Yiska mused on Benny
and tomorrow for lunch.

Shame her mother
would be there.

She sipped the last
of the tea
and left the kitchen
to get ready for school.

Just the once:
her mother called out;
a half whisper,
half shout.
Terry Collett
Written by
Terry Collett  71/M/England
       Keith Wilson and Jamadhi Verse
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