The dress was her grandmother's which had been worn in the ghettos of Chicago when times were really tough, not like today: eating rats and drinking soup and standing for hours in line outside the WPA. That was her grandmother who died last night and now the funeral was over and she was free. It was raining. God it was raining. She was a washerwoman no more.
***
This is a snippet of "flash fiction" inspired by the writing prompt issued by Robert Vaughan at the Alchemy for Writers 101;-) event we hosted July 15 at Alchemist Theatre.
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