By Brenda Anderson
Where’s Jenny? They sent the wrong girl.
I’m confused. This one looks like her, and the clothes fit, but she can’t ride dragons or spin gold. When we ask for a bedtime story, she makes some excuse and hurries out of the room. It’s ridiculous, but we think she’s crying.
What’s to cry about?
I ask those people in uniforms but they tell me she’s our Jenny.
Not in a million years.
We’d know our own daughter. She’s one of a kind. She’d dance up a storm, tell funny stories, make us laugh.
We’re old, Jenny. Where have you gone?
Brenda Anderson live in Adelaide, South Australia. Her fiction has appeared in Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Abstract Jam, and 50-Word Stories.