Characters: Hannah Abbott
Rating: G, though it's a bit angsty
Word Count: 250
She stared herself down in the miniature mirror of her compact, focused on the blue eye that appeared above the powder. Why did she bother to apply make-up for her mother’s funeral? It all seemed so insignificant, so hollow.
Memories of summer haunted her, and she found herself nostalgic for the unassuming happiness that filled her days just a month prior. Cherry popsicles slowly melting to the rhythm of the old porch swing. Afternoons of filling in crossword puzzles over tea and biscuits. (Hannah always knew the obscure vocabulary words, her father knew the athletic terms, and her mother knew the pop culture references. They were the perfect team.) Shopping trips in the city: a wild goose chase for a cute sundress that would give Hannah’s thin figure the appearance of curves.
And now she was wearing a much different kind of dress, a simple black gown that more than covered her nearly nonexistent cleavage and fell straight to her ankles. Mourning colors did not suit Hannah; the harsh contrast with her fair complexion made her appear pale enough to be a ghost.
But her mother was not a ghost. She was an angel, singing in heaven; she was a stunning goddess looking down on Hannah; she was a beautiful creature with wings like those of a delicate, graceful butterfly.
Try as she might, Hannah could not make these thoughts fill the stark emptiness she felt in her heart.
Because her mother, whatever else she might be, was not here.