Sunday
Sunday Micro Fiction: "When It Counts," from elimae
When It Counts
Randall Brown
My son watches the man and the shell game, follows the covered pea, the blur of hiding and revealing, of shell and hands, the man’s beard an ice cream cone of teeth and filth, ten, twenty, a thousand times my son points and is correct and the man says each time, I wonder if you can do that when it counts, and each time my son says, We don’t have any money.
Ten, twenty, a thousand times I get to hear him say it.
From September’s elimae.