The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

Friday Fictioneers, 5 April, 2013: One Mite, Pt. 7

Suzannah took in the warm décor of the kitchen and then looked out the window. She smiled wistfully at the tree that stood outside the large south-facing window.After a time, she let out a breath and turned to Sara-Jane. “Remember that big ol’ tree we had out front of the house? Papa was determined to cut it down after that bad winter dropped the big branch on the bed of the pick-up. Boy, how he fought to get the chainsaw to even bite in.”Sara-Jane could see the pain on Suzannah’s face; she’d been closest to Papa, after all.

Submitted to this week's Friday Fictioneers; to catch up on the story, visit here.

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