The words over at Three Word Wednesday are bump, knuckle and transfix. Busy, busy, busy this week, so I tapped out a drabble, 100 words, no more, no less.
The dress is tight, neon blue, expensive.
The cane is medical surplus, gray aluminum, battered.
Passengers bump and nudge her and her eyes have the glow of tears, a hint of a storm to come.
It’s not the jostling that’s causing her grief. She scans the passengers, sits transfixed on a face in the crowded car.
He’s older, bent from the years. He carries a cane, too. Dark-skinned, just like her.
She signs, digs a thumb into her eye. Shudders. The tears don’t come.
She grips the cane, turning her knuckles shades of caramel.
He doesn’t return her gaze.