This was written in response to this week’s flashfriday prompt
Every spring Mrs Johnson waits for the appointment time and place. Always April. Always when the blossoms smear their colourful indifference over the landscape.
Every message mocks her with the order.
Mrs Johnson dresses carefully. Today matters. Joyce is excited. She wants to dress in her best. She knows today is important.
Mrs Johnson bathes Jeremy carefully; she shaves him, cursing puberty’s casual indifference to irony. She unfolds his Warriors jacket and squeezes him into it, saddened that it always fits.
Mrs Johnson eases him into the chair, trying so hard to ignore his depleted body.
Mrs Johnson walks through the park savouring yet begrudging every passing second. Joyce’s excitement is palpable. One day, Joyce will understand. Not today. She wills herself not to reach out and touch him.
The committee receive her with due formality. This is business. While Joyce skips away, Jeremy is checked and passed. This time he will lose a kidney and fibula.
The committee remind Mrs Johnson of her responsibilities. Minders must not become emotionally attached to clones. She understands. One day he will be fully depleted; she will return with Joyce alone. Then it will be Joyce’s turn.
Ice requirement. Unexpected sorrow
Between 185 and 195 words