Dad brought home a replacement mother. Corrine was sweet, generous, unwanted. Scrawny too – owned a drained face and an abacus ribcage. Good cook, though – fussed over me with casseroles and lush desserts. I ate, hunched over the table, shooting out glare-stares.
One night when Dad was working, Corrine spent ages gazing at a framed photo of baby-me sitting on real-but-dead Mum’s knee. She placed a hand on her concave belly and heaved into tears.
That evening she baked apple pie. I twitched out a smile and mmmed in appreciation even though every spoonful tasted salt-sharp dry.
Sharon Boyle lives in East Lothian, Scotland, and writes around her family and part-time job. Her short stories and flash pieces have been published online and in magazines, including Ellipsis Zine, Retreat West, Reflex Fiction, and Bath Anthology. Currently, she is writing a YA novel mystery/thriller she hopes will be a firecracker success. She tweets as @SharonBoyle50 and has a luddite-basic blog at boyleblethers.wordpress.com. Her dream is to have a writing shed so she can potter and procrastinate in total peace.
The Centifictionist 
One thought on “What Humble Pie Really Tastes Like”
Comments are closed.