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Marla and the Box

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I was at a writing festival all day, organised by CityLit's Creative Writing department. It was amazing, but I cannot write anything right now. So I'm posting the first flash fiction I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy :)

Marla climbs up the stairs with the cardboard box hugged in front of her. She places the box in the living room, on the beige carpet, and goes into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. For one. As she waits for the kettle to boil, she looks out the back window that watches over the garden. She sees the tree house, empty of children. The backyard is tidy, manicured, quiet. She pours the hot water, lets it steep, takes the strainer out. One teaspoon of brown sugar, and she fills the cup to three-quarters. She takes the cup back to the living room, places it on the coffee table, and settles down on the carpet by the box. The words "Girls' clothes 0-3" are scrawled on the top. She opens the box and begins sorting through the pink barrage. Dresses, tights, onesies. So many onesies. She puts all the onesies in a neat pile. Each reminds her of a day. This is the onesie she wore when Marla took her to the lactation clinic, desperate for a cure for her aching breasts. This one she wore when she took her to the first baby massage class. This one she wore when she took her to the first story time. She puts them all back in the box and sighs. She inhales deeply the smell of newborn baby and fresh laundry still emanating from the box. She closes the box and puts it by the front door.

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