Candy runs ahead, hissing back, “Hurry, Girl!” Candy clutches her corduroy backpack, bouncing with store goodies, to her chest. “Presents!” Candy exits Walmart with that full shoplifter bag, her legs buckling —her Xanax kicking in.
Outside in the warm air, the security cop grabs her wrist. Security leans his bald head—like naked Dad leaning over her—into the bag. “What’d you steal today?”
Heat rises from pavement around Candy’s legs. She lists, “Cookies for Girl, four sunglasses, lacy panties…” Pauses. “No one ever gave me things.”
Girl pulls Candy’s elbow. “Mama! Don’t forget, we left Baby in the car!”
Nicole Brogdon is a trauma therapist in Austin TX interested in strugglers and stories everywhere. Her flash fiction appears in Flash Frontier, 101Words, Microfiction Monday, Dribble Drabble Review, and elsewhere.
The Centifictionist 
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