She stared down at the feather, head tilted to one side, wondering at its sudden appearance. Years had passed since the ugly gray down had riffled beneath her chin. The soft rubber beak nibbling at her ankles.
She didn’t pretend to a different history. No, she had despised him. Held up her other children as the impossible standard. And the little one had not complained – had never stopped striving to earn her approval. Her love.
And she had not given it.
Now, this evidence of his passing. Another year without contact, without the chance to say, “I’m sorry.”
Thanks to Madison Woods for providing photo inspiration for today’s 100-word Flash Fiction challenge. Please visit her site to see more outstanding writing samples of the “Friday Fictioneers”!