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Ceelie was always one for a boiled potato facial over the steel pot on the stove.  I don’t remember a time I didn’t warn her that she would burn herself.  She’d laugh, her eyes squinting against the steam running up her face like a waterfall turned back on itself.  Salting a piece of raw potato, I’d try and tempt her away from her beauty regimen teasing her I would eat it myself.  “I’d chase you, but that ages me.  I’m planning for people to ask if I’m your daughter.”  I fed her potatoes so they wouldn’t.

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Filed under 100 Stones

Tags: 100 word story, micro fiction