1,000 Words worth 2017-5

Each week for 2017, I'm posting a photo and a bit of flash fiction. To find out more visit here.

“I wear gloves,” said Hershal.  He looked out the window, turning his head away from Mavis.  His hands stayed threaded together on the cafeteria table.  “What’s it to you, anyways?” Hershal kept his eyes on the pair of swans in the hospital’s cooling pond just outside the window.

“All the time?” Mavis said, her own hands sunk deep into the pockets of a too-big coat with frayed cuffs.  “I mean your hands look so soft.”

“Our mother is dying and you want to talk about my hands?” The swans glided toward a small boy standing at the edge of the pond.  A woman trotted toward him.  “When I’m outside.  When I’m working.  When I’m cleaning.  Obviously, not ALL the time.  I don’t have gloves on now.” He closed his eyes and opened them slowly.

Mavis shrugged.  She took one hand out of her pocket and shimmed her fingers under his.  a dollar bill purred into the candy machine and an intruder pushed buttons A-7.  His Snickers clunked, followed by change clicking a thank you.

“Your hands are freezing.”  Hershal looked down at her hand, gnarled, with frayed cuticles.

[tweetthis]”I know,” she said. “I know.” His blue eyes clouded, but Mavis was still looking at the Snickers.[/tweetthis]

The cafeteria chairs complain as the two of them rose and  headed down the hallway. Mavis walked slightly out of rhythm with one hand enveloped in Hershal’s and the other still thrust deep in her pocket. She bumped her woolened shoulder against Herschal’s flanneled and he tried not to recoil.


These are Loved-One’s hands. I always marvel at how soft they are. That’s the only think this photo and the story have in common.

For more beautiful photography, visit Jen at Pierced Wonderings She’s got some gorgeous photos of the Mississippi Sky that will bring peace to even the saddest heart.