Distraction

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She wore her best duster, the one the cats usually left alone, and put her eyebrows on before going down to Half to Have It on Second Avenue across from where they used to make her go to Group.

In the far aisle, she pretended to drink from a tiny teacup, throwing her head back and cackling at her own silliness, before returning it to the dusty shelf. The shopkeeper glanced over too late.

Back home, she wrote again to Mother using the fine-looking fountain pen that fell into her pocket, to tell her about the walk and the cats.

By Amy Bohlman