by R.L. Black
It was the last day of school before summer vacation and Ms. Sweet’s first grade class was missing twenty-two bottles of glue. Where had they gone? Had one of the children taken them? Another teacher, perhaps? Ms. Sweet pondered the puzzle but could not come up with a conclusion that made any reasonable sense. What in the world would anyone want with all that glue?
Seven year old Tabitha walked along the sidewalk toward her home with a bulging backpack, a breaking heart, and a plan.
No one had known she was outside the door yesterday afternoon when the family doctor delivered sad news to her parents. It was something a seven year old should not have heard.
“How much longer does my wife have?” Tabitha’s father had asked in a broken voice.
“When will I … when?” Her mother sobbed.
“In the autumn,” the doctor answered in a voice so quiet Tabitha barely heard.
She’d gone to school and asked her teacher when autumn would come.
“When the leaves fall from the trees,” Ms. Sweet said.
Tabitha stopped walking, looked up and around. When the leaves fall from the trees. There were a lot of trees. A lot of leaves. She was going to need more glue.
R.L. Black is EIC of two online journals and her own writing has been published across the web and in print. Find her at rlblackauthor.tumblr.com where she blogs and reblogs about writing and LOST.