“… and then you know what, the shadow-ghost came up behind me, and said…”. Seeing my attention stray, my son broke off hurriedly, before accusing me, “Mamma, you are not listening to what I am saying.”
“Yes, I am listening”, I lied. “Get on with your story.”
He stamped his feet in annoyance. “It is not a story. It actually happened.”
“Yes, of course it did. I am listening. Tell me what happened next.”
I wonder what kind of precedent I am setting by accepting shadow-ghosts knocking over lunch-boxes as an acceptable excuse for an uneaten school lunch?
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.