Alex at the Café—noon
We sat in the shaded sidewalk of a café for brunch under umbrellas. I was safely ensconced in shadow, but Alex who was sitting across from me was cut as if by a sword by the shadow overhead.
Atina at the dining table—3:41 PM
The mid-afternoon light floods through the dining room window behind me. It fabricates a low-plunge neckline on Atina’s dark sweater. It also swaths her forearms and hands in brightness as if she’s wearing opera gloves.
Dad in the den at his computer—4:58 PM
The afternoon sun scratches a striped pattern on my father’s back and head from the blinds as if he were the American flag. He is wearing a red shirt.
Author’s Note: Another writing exercise from the great Janet Fitch!