He captured you when you had said no, had freeze-framed your attempt to rise
unbalanced from the garden step. You are dressed in your clothes for cleaning and
cooking, a scarf wrapped like a turban around your curlers, no lipstick, and wearing the apron I kept.
I understood then, as I understand now, that you had wanted to look your best, did not want to be pinned to that image of drudgery but even in this black and white, your beauty shines through.
There is a bandage around your wrist. It has been tied with a bow, and I wonder how that could be, who did that for you and I remember how you used to listen to the radio, how you’d sing along in your gentle voice – Catch a Falling Star.
Kathryn Ratzko completed a Certificate in Creative Writing with York University after retiring ten years ago. She has been long-listed, short-listed and highly commended in flash fiction and poetry including Flash 500, Retreat West and Grindstone Literary. She lives in the Cheshire countryside with her husband.
This story was shortlisted in the June 24 Monthly Micro Competition.