Photo by nowme. She posts the pics (NYC windows) and I write the stories (female lead, 100 words or less).
The first time Tawanda’s mother shared her when I’m gone instructions, she rejected the information. “Come on Mom, I’m not tryna talk about that,” said Tawanda.
“Don’t matter, you need to know,” replied her mother, “Your brothers aren’t going to take care of my funeral. Who’s going to run my salon?”
Six months later her mother shoved a key in her palm, “My papers are in a safe deposit box.” Two months later, cancer claimed her. Tawanda stood outside Fly Sheila’s staring at the faded posters in the window. She’d keep the salon, her mother was there.
Cija's Quips 