Moving forward in parallel

Microfiction: 100 words about COVID-19

Stopping for a breath, her fingers pull at the hairs wrapped in the straps of her mask. Her shoulder finds the cool, metal windowsill and she turns to take in her new backyard. She squints. The lights from the street almost mimic the bright colors of her old wildflower garden.

Searching his memory, his fingers tie and untie the ribbon wrapped around his daughter’s soft braid. Did his wife loop it first? His chest tightens at the thought of watching her one last time. He sighs. Maybe she would have been proud that the strands look less messy than yesterday.

Photo by Morgane Le Breton on Unsplash