Author’s Note: No children were harmed in the making of this short story.
The sun hung bright and lemony in the clear blue sky. A perfect day. Now, anyway. The neighborhood was quiet, not even a dog barked. She hummed to herself as she went about her work.
As she hung up the masks on the clothesline she thought about their wants, their needs.
Addalyn: pinch, snap she needed to go to the mall for new jeans . . . that she had no place to wear.
Aaron: pinch, snap he needed to skateboard to the skate park, even though it was chained shut.
Alara: Pinch, snap she would die if she didn’t get to practice basketball. All games had been cancelled, there was nothing to practice for.
Anthony: pinch, snap he needed to go play Tim’s new Xbox, said they’d be quiet since Tim’s parents were in bed sick.
Amerika: pinch, snap needed diapers. Disposable. No cloth for her delicate bottom. Diapers that not even Amazon had at the moment.
Mike: pinch, snap he needed to work. Over time. All the time.
And what did she need? She needed peace. Just some peace and quiet. Just some goddamned peace and quiet!
And now she had it. At least until Mike got home. Then she would make more peace and quiet. She giggled to herself. Peace and quiet for dinner tonight, with extra helpings.
She hung up the last mask for the last time with a satisfied sigh, tucked the empty basket under her arm and skipped into her silent house.