Dear friends, I leave for the goodness of your readings a microfiction that I have written for the inspiring contest that @jayna organizes (please, see the bases here and participate, I recommend the experience!). For each edition, she proposes a keyword. On this occasion, the word was "sale". So I've written this little story about what we can sell and what we can't sell.
I hope you enjoy it.
I am grateful.
Source
Garage Sale
Miguel hated with all his heart the garage sale his mom was organizing. His skates and his collection of dinosaurs fell during the razzia. Tragically, her mother also found her boxing gloves. Then he did feel mortified, for a burning tremor, light as a butterfly's wing touched his throat and knew he was going to cry. But he was no longer a little boy. He was nine years old. For more embarrassment, his mother noticed (That woman had the nose of a hound!).
"You don't use them, Miguel. You can sell them and pay for things you really need.”
(Typical. She didn't know anything).
"Mom, they're mine! I don't want to sell them!”
"Well, give me one good reason and it won't be "I don't want"!”
"I really like them..."
“And...?”
(She looked at him with sharp eyes).
“I want to be strong and have big muscles and know how to fight so that the kids at school want to be my friends...”
(I couldn't with that woman! I was pulling on his tongue... Again he wanted to cry!)
“Mom...?”
(He couldn't take it anymore. His pride was irremissibly lost).
Then she did one of those amazing things she did sometimes:
She hugged him very tightly and her vanilla aroma entered his guts with a pleasant warmth.
The crying went to the never-ever and he felt placid.
"All right, the gloves stay on," she whispered in her ear, "but the dinosaurs are leaving.”
("This woman is a case," thought Miguel).
Posted from my blog with SteemPress : http://adncabrera.vornix.blog/2019/02/11/garage-sale-a-microfiction-microfiction-contest-jayna/