Kenny, Lucy and the bite marks of fate

That would be a great name for a band come to think of it.

I’m not sure if attention spans are longer or shorter on a Sunday* compared to a Saturday but I’m going to go with shorter and see how the chips fall. Today’s offering is a bit of fun. A 100 word drabble that was inspired by hearing a song on the radio.

* for those of you already on Monday I’m thinking you’re only reading this in order to fall asleep again after a brief, but satisfying, middle-of-the-night toilet excursion. So all the more reason to stop banging on about nothing and get to the story…

*

I’m leaving, Lucy said.

And she did.

Not immediately or all in one go. She left me a piece at a time, growing ever more distant and diminished until at last she faded from sight entirely.

Unlike Kenny Rogers I had no crop in the field to consider and my four hungry children were whittled down to two teenage boys fully capable of feeding themselves.

But it was still a fine time to leave me.

I’d always considered her to be all bark and no bite. The teeth marks in the warm meat of my heart tell a different story.

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