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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2024
Submitted to Contest #300
My fingernail scratches at the flaking gold paint. I watch it drift to the ground, leaving behind darkened wood. It frames a picture. My mother—a beautiful woman. Poise, sweet, affluential. I prefer the wooden frame. It complements her caramel brown hair much better than the cheap paint my father brushed onto the frame himself—a pretender to humility. I don't know what my mother saw in him. He's not worthy of the title father, let alone husband to such a woman. My mother worked for her wealth as he hopped from rich family to rich family sinc...
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