Entering our house, she tossed her red scarf on our old brass radiator. She untied and kicked off her boots. She unzipped her jacket and walked out of it, leaving the puffy pink coat on top of her boots.
“Daddy!”
It was her excitement that kept us going, her joy when she saw us. We craved it while she was at school, and during her long weekends away. Beffie, our six year old supplier - that’s how I thought of her.
She dealt in the euphoria that we ingested and her payments came due at the dinner table. At the bookstore. At Toy Palace. We wouldn’t be weaning ourselves off her any time soon, though, it would cost us more in the future than we could afford to pay.
We'd just have to find a way - any way - when that time came. Or die trying.
Image Credit - Pixabay - https://pixabay.com/en/users/MabelAmber-1377835/