Claw & Disorder

by Eileen Watkins

  After baking all day in the hot sun of the window, the flowers had begun to wilt a little. Birthday cards from Chester’s new friends and notices of community activities cluttered his coffee table. His new tan sofa held both black hairs shed by Minnie and mostly white hairs from Candy, and one arm already showed claw marks. Our empty dessert plates teetered in a pile on the dining table, and some crumbs had fallen on the carpet.

  The mismatched furniture came from all different decades. It would have given Gillian Foster apoplexy.

  But even though it wasn’t the same house where Chester and Bernice had raised their children, and it might be far from perfect, he looked content.

  Already, to Chester, it was home.