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Literary Fiction: 103 words
Copyright – Roger Bultot
The Scratch of a Branch
I heard the scratch of the window, a branch beating to the tune of Dave Brubeck’s Take Five. It pulsed through my ear buds as I sank deeper into the couch, although absent from any playlist on my iPod, and drummed on under heavy eyelids. Although a constant growing up, I had not listened to it so closely as I did in that moment. Had I not appreciated it fully? The rise and fall of each breath a syncopated chorus, the drumming delicate, faint; a warm hand on my head tousled my hair.
My mother’s scream, her cry. My father had said goodbye.