Fresh Hell

It’s so hard to squeeze a story into a hundred words or less. I didn’t quite make this one fit, but I’m tired. I’m sure that I’m just putting too much plot in these things. I can’t help it, I love plot, plot is my favorite. I need to make the moments smaller. I’ll have to try again.

“I ran away from my daughter, from responsibility. Please find her. Give her this.”

One trembling hand touched her necklace.

“Maybe she’ll have pity, and understand that I was afraid…”

Her speech faded and she wilted into her pillow, eyes nearly shut, thin breaths slowing down.

Finally, the increased morphine had taken effect. The doctor was free to continue his rounds.

She died after he went home.

By the time he returned to work the next day, her body and the necklace were long gone.

Oh well. It’d be better if the girl grew up without reminders of her irresponsible mother anyway. After all, he’d been abandoned as a child by his mother, and he was a successful doctor now.