Doughnut

By Ellen Heaney

She cradled her belly, swollen, empty. Between them, silence, and the words that hung there.

He stopped at the doughnut stand and watched as they emerged, sloppy, from the gloopy oil, and hardened to the world. Warm, sweet, innocent. One, he said, will do.

They halved it and stood together, alone, watching the swallows over the sea swarming in synchronicity against a peach sunset, like leaves at the bottom of a teacup.

A gull swooped and stole her half, then his. They felt the threat of a smile – and let it come.

––––––––––––––
“I write because it brings me joy.” – the writer

2 thoughts on “Doughnut

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s