Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – One Hundred and Sixteen

Although I know I’m lucky, being ninety-five still sucks. Sure I still have my wits about me and I manage perfectly well in this little house. But I’m lonely. Not the not seeing people sort of lonely, the watching all your friends die sort.

Last night I dreamed of my beloved Alfie. He’s been gone thirty years now, and I don’t know why I asked him what he thought of the skinny bag of bones I’ve become. 

He grinned and hugged me. 

“You always were a bag of bones…”

And that’s the most comfort I’ve had since he died.

©️jj 2018

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