Laura balanced on a stool beneath the skylight, the sun's warm pressure on her back. "Am I okay?" she asked her father.
"You'll do." He winked at her over the easel.
Downstairs, the front doo
... [+]
Jenny Moore writes funny children’s books (published by Maverick) and is a previous winner of the Commonwealth Short Story Competition. "Man on a Mission" is in Short Circuit #09, Short Édition's quarterly review.
"I may be some time," he said,
easing on his fleece-lined boots.
We laughed and clinked our empty glasses.
"To more beer," we cheered, "to wine,"
as he hauled himself into his puffed winter coat;
my Michelin man on a mission,
hat strapped tight beneath his chin,
harpoon at the ready.
He kissed me goodbye on the doorstep,
ice already clinging
to the tips of his powdered moustache.
Shivering, I watched him go,
waving him into the whiteness,
watching as the blank landscape
swallowed him, slowly.
Later, I found the second crate of wine,
forgotten by the kitchen door
and the waiting bottles of beer
cooling in an unseen bucket.
Later, I remembered it was June,
and this was California–
no footsteps in the white, white sand
to mark his icy passing.
easing on his fleece-lined boots.
We laughed and clinked our empty glasses.
"To more beer," we cheered, "to wine,"
as he hauled himself into his puffed winter coat;
my Michelin man on a mission,
hat strapped tight beneath his chin,
harpoon at the ready.
He kissed me goodbye on the doorstep,
ice already clinging
to the tips of his powdered moustache.
Shivering, I watched him go,
waving him into the whiteness,
watching as the blank landscape
swallowed him, slowly.
Later, I found the second crate of wine,
forgotten by the kitchen door
and the waiting bottles of beer
cooling in an unseen bucket.
Later, I remembered it was June,
and this was California–
no footsteps in the white, white sand
to mark his icy passing.
