Friday fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
“There, see it?” Sam pointed into the murky pond water.
It was rusty, bobbing on surface and strangled by plastic bags.
“What is it?” With two front teeth gone, Sam whistled his question.
“A shopping trolley.” Jan remembered pushing one like it with Sam in the kiddie seat. The boxes of cereals and rice heaped behind him. Wine bottles, too.
“What’s that?” piped up Sam.
“It’s from a supermarket.”
“What’s that?” he repeated.
“It’s where Ma used to buy our food.”
These days, she held out an empty bowl with trembling hands and pleaded with tear-filled eyes.
“Come on, Sam, back to the hostel.”