TMA Appreciation Week, August 6: Pre-Canon
Too Quiet
Grandma’s house was quiet. Too quiet.
Jon missed his mom’s voice. She used to talk on the phone all about market shares, and Thatcherism, and inflation rates, dipping into Bengali (which she had not taught him) and back into English, filling the space.
Then she was gone.
He understood dead. He’d seen a dead fox once outside in the park, and read a book all about dead people (well, most of a book about dead people, until his mom caught him and took it away), and understood dead.
Sometimes he cried. She didn’t come. That was dead.
Grandma’s house was quiet. Too quiet.