This is a repost of one of my earlier stories, my mother’s recounting of a trip with eccentric relatives. My mother, Kathleen Swain did the illustration.
People came and went. The waitress cleared the other tables and pointedly checked on Mother a few times, staring at the uneaten breakfasts and serving her enough coffee refills to float a battleship. She dawdled as long as she dared, hoping her nemeses would come back to retrieve her before the arrest. She occupied her time well, alternating between Continue reading