Well, I Love You

“What do you  want me to do?” she asked him.

Mimi held onto the side of the couch, the suede thin enough to fit between her fingers.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said, his voice low and careful.

Mimi sat up straighter in her chair, “it is not that easy to be your daughter these days.” There now the words were out that she held onto before.  Words that she hid between the hospital bed and the wall.

“Well, I love you,” she said. There was no real connection between her last words and these but they were all true.

His breathing kept steady and he clutched the white blanket on his bed.

This entry was published on April 22, 2014 at 7:43 pm and is filed under Fiction Writing by Jessie. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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