Dirty Linen

Flash Fiction by Eva Silverfine

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As soon as his father unlocked the door, Tommy raced through the cottage, his sister close behind: past the fireplace to the deck overlooking the forest, back through the common area to the hallway of bedrooms.

Excited by the bunk beds, Tommy announced, “I want this room.”

“I want that one,” said younger Meagan, pointing to the adjoining room with a double bed.

Marge, their mother, shook her head. “No, that’s Aunt Jean’s room. She’ll be here in the morning. I only have one set of clean linens. Now go get your things.”

Tommy lingered, his eyes on the gift bag his mother held. She placed it on the dresser in Aunt Jean’s room.

“Is it Aunt Jean’s birthday?” he asked.

“No . . . just some toiletries in case she forgets anything.”

Grandma called Aunt Jean her late-life blessing. Even his mother doted on her. Tommy thought she was always kind of grumpy.