The Scattering of Ash

Walking on the gritted icy path to the wake Rose said, “Your granddad, my brother, he,” she squeezed my arm, “was a total hollow bastard.”

“You were so good caring for him,” I said. “We all offer something. Your driving was helpful.” She patted my arm with a felted pink mitten.

“Well, what does he offer for his own wake — bad stories? No food in his house, I’m shocked you found grit.” “See? He offers traction.”

© 2011 Michael Donoghue


2 thoughts on “The Scattering of Ash

  1. Mechaieh says:

    Killer closing line. Enjoyed the whole story. Great take on the theme.

  2. grayestone says:

    Thanks. We loved it, too:-)

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