“Emmy, don’t go. Don’t leave me on my own,” pleaded Maggie. The pale, translucent skin on the back of her hand shimmered as she raised a smouldering cigarette towards her lips.
Emma-Jo paused to fasten the leather buckles on her green rucksack. “You’re a mess, mum. I can’t handle this, not now. No wonder dad walked out on us.“
“Of course, him, he had all the answers didn’t he?” Maggie winced as she remembered some of her husband’s answers. The bruising on her ribs still stung from the night he left.
Emma-Jo slid the security chain along its silver track.
Maggie took a shallow, nervous drag on her cigarette.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge