Tomorrow's Tasks by Cindy Pereira

Norma carried a sterile container – human organs for the hospital – to the door.

A man received it, handed her a bag filled with cash and disappeared in a van. Under the floor, she hid the money from sight.

"Paid," she told her husband; he worked with a chainsaw in the basement, in a room covered in polythene, now strained reddish-brown.

It would be washed later and made ready for tomorrow's tasks.

By the kitchen window she'd set a trap – cupcakes; two urchins were now gorging on them.

She enticed them inside and locked them up.

They would become tomorrow's tasks.

Selected: April Drabble
Published in Issue #30

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