Overheard in NYC
Man, dark curls pulled back below
balance of thick black hat,
breaks from gentling lilt of
tuneful (if slightly breathless) Hebrew song,
to child, blonde curls falling forward,
anxious (despite song),
in his fully-extended arms (and pink), wedged
between careful pale-
fingered grasp and
trapezoidal cardboard box:
“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ve got
the ukelele.”
(This is posted for Friday Flash 55 (Flash Fiction in 55 words), a fun excercise posted by the G-Man, Mr. Know=it-all. (I’m going to tell him a thing or two.)
Apologies to regular followers:it’s the reposting of an earlier (not great) drawing, and story, though slightly expanded here.
ManicDDaily 
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