Ella’s lexicon lingers, though she is long gone. Ruth twists what will always be, for her, basghetti around her fork, incanting the words not words to summon her daughter.
Strawbabies, pumcakes, hitabottomus, frumpits, viginer.
Boiling water for her evening meal, and taking down a packet from the shelf, Ella feels a tug on the final thread that ties her to home. She ignores it. She is schooled in a new language now.
Dysfunctional, toxicity, pernicious, estrangement, complicated.
She scrolls as she eats her pasta. One day soon, she thinks, she’ll change her username and finally lay Basghetti Girl to rest
This story was shortlisted in the April Monthly Micro Competition.
About the author: Alison Wassell is a flash fiction and short story writer, longlisted, shortlisted and placed in various competitions and published by Reflex Fiction, Retreat West, Bath Flash Fiction Award, The Cabinet of Heed, NFFD and other random places.