Becca looks around her living room, wanting to cry at the expanse of empty carpet, punctuated by dust bunnies and lint, furniture dents and the trailing cords of lamps now on the floor, one tipped over.
Fine. Richard’s nasty sister got all of his personal property, “for the estate” ( meaning for herself, not that she needs it). At least Becca has the apartment, for which Richard had paid a year’s advance rent not long before the accident.
She ponders the agony of taking the as-yet-unrepossessed car out, the certainty that she won’t remember how to turn the alarm off, the mind-whirling Saturday traffic in Seattle, the peoplyness of Ikea. That’s much farther than she typically ranges.
On second thought, perhaps sitting on the floor isn’t so bad.
This is a Six Sentence Stories installment from The Life and Times of Jane Doe. The cue was “range.”
Fun Six Sentence Stories from other writers can be found here. Thanks, Ivy!