rights reserved
December 3, 2009
Thin Skin
by Wendy Morrow
She always managed to inflict a wound upon herself before she went. Her old skin was becoming thin and the burn was blistering. She wrapped it in gauze and slipped on her gloves.
“You shouldn’t go you know.” Her husband grunted beneath his paper. “What do you know about these people?” He harrumphed and snapped the folds straight. “They’re not like you don’t you know?”
‘They are nice to me.’ She wanted to say but the lump in her throat got in the way.
“You’ll be a laughing stock”.
She tucked her poem into her pocket and closed the door.
This is the story that won me honourable mention in a short story contest. I was rather pleased since it is an international writing contest.
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