Soggy Nappies

Published in The Very Best of 81 Words

She stared from above the crib, the pillow pressed against her aching chest; every morning the same: coffee on her new blouse, jam smeared across the wall, soggy, disappointed nappies. Above it, safari animals swung; hanged without trial. She leant forward with the pillow, singing ‘shush’. The door creaked open. Encrusted eye-rubbing, half-dressed, he stood in the crescent of light: “Hon? You’re up?”

The pillow hovered, inches from flat lines and sirens. “Heard her cryin’. That’s all,” she said.

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