Room at the Inn by Beck Collett

My kids are still bickering. My youngest has thrown-up all over her brother's bed. The house seems to be shrinking by the hour. What I wouldn’t give to be alone somewhere! Then comes a knock on the door. There stands my neighbour, a pop-up one-man tent wedged under her arm.

‘Before you say no,’ she begins, ‘just hear me out. I won’t be an imposition, won’t take up any space. See, I’ve got my tent, I’ll be in the garden, out of your way.’ She looks close to tears. ‘Please,’ she says, ‘I’m lonely.’

‘Ok,’ I say, ‘want to swap?’

Selected: April Drabble
Published in Issue #30

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