A Drabble
Thump, thump. Her heart beat, heavy deadened, weary of life.
Thump, thump the pulse echoed from the floor upstairs.
She spread prone on the futon, waiting for it, him.
Thump, thump, resounded from the staircase, even inevitable.
First came the feet, clad in well-known shoes. Then legs, torso, arms, all stiff with rigor. Then the face contorted in the rictus of death.
She lay motionless. He drew near. Thump, thump. The tiny frame climbed upon her chest.
“Mommy?”
The mouth opened wide, clamped over hers.
“Yes, dearest.” She breathed her warm words into his cold lungs.
photo mahyar-tehrani at unsplash