Clearing out Dad’s House

It was the first time she’d woken without the sinking feeling of loss that, for days, had tightened her throat and made her shiver under the downy quilt.

In the grey dawn, Zoe wondered what had broken her sleep.

A bark.

Yes, she’d been dreaming of Crumble, the golden retriever who’d shared most of her childhood.

That bark again. It sounded just like his voice when he’d jump around, trying to bite snowflakes.

Reaching toward the window, Zoe tugged back the curtain to reveal a snowy scene that hadn’t been forecast. She peered left and right looking for the dog, but nobody was in sight, though the joyful barking continued.

A snowdrift threatened to topple onto the mat at the front door.

Even with thick green army socks, Zoe’s feet were swamped in Dad’s old wellies, but she hadn’t brought more suitable footwear. She put on his grey woollen coat too and as she lifted the rough lapel to her cheek, was engulfed in the aroma of woodsmoke, nutmeg, and peppermint.

Smiling through tears, Zoe took a great step over the snowdrift and went out to find who was barking.

After ten minutes of fruitless wandering, her mind drifted into list-making mode. Empty the fridge. Find out when is bin day. Search for a local charity that will collect.

She was ready to tackle the dreaded chores.

As Zoe turned to close the front door, she saw faint pawprints alongside her own treads in the snow.

Shortlisted - Retreat West Flash Competition - January 2024
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