PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays
When Josey was a little girl, she would spend rainy afternoons playing with her mother’s pot of spare buttons – pearlised cuff buttons, chunky wooden coat buttons, shimmery greens and blues from old skirts and blouses. Josey let them run through her fingers like sea-smoothed shells, listening to their their soft chink and slither, pebbles caught in a swell.
Now Josey carries a pair of nail scissors in her coat pocket. She snips the threads and cords while people aren’t looking, adds their buttons to her stolen treasures.
But the collection isn’t Mother’s. They don’t feel the same.
***
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. To join in and write your own tale, see here.
And many congratulations Rochelle on seven years at the helm – a more gracious, talented, generous and encouraging leader, we could not wish for.
Word Shamble 