Today's Red Writing Hood prompt was to write a post inspired by the photo below.


The kitchen door flung open.

It was her.

We had only been apart for a few minutes but it was enough to imagine what it would be like if she were gone forever.

Long brown hair trailed behind her. I wanted so badly to touch it.

My eyes traced the outline of her face. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

I said each word silently to myself.

She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at a small white paper box on the kitchen counter.

In one move, she flipped open the box and whirled around to open a drawer, taking out a napkin.

Then her head flipped toward me as if she had suddenly remembered I was there.

Our eyes locked.

My world ignited.

Her body shifted slightly, cheapening our moment. I wasn't stupid. It was an effort to hide the box.

She considered me. And then walked over to kiss me hello.

It was nice. But not enough.

Before I knew it, she was back over by the box.

She turned on an angle so as not to face me directly.

I craned my neck to get a better look.

She pulled the lid back and angled her hand just so. Then she pulled something out.

My eyes widened.

It was pink and fluffy with bits of rainbow sprinkled on top.

My jaw slacked.

As she cradled it with the napkin, the corner of her eye caught mine again.

We stared at one another. A full kitchen between us. Her pink confection hanging in mid-air less than an inch from her lips.

Stupidly, I lunged for it.

Straps pulled me back. Anchoring me to my chair.

She turned her back to me to hide her prize completely.

But it was too late.


She stood very still as if by not acknowledging me, I might disappear.


Her shoulders sank. Defeated.

She placed the uneaten object back in the box, gingerly closed the lid and stuck the whole thing in a cabinet, out of sight.

Then she smiled and walked over. Ready to play.

But I knew that soon she would try to eat it again.

And I would be waiting.

"Hi, Ma-ma."