Sonnets of a Surrogate
Family Horror: Consecutive Substack Story 1038
The box in the bottom dresser drawer underneath sweats Tia wore to bed held notes and cards from Grandma.
Her inscriptions had always been lavish, more than just “Love,Grandma” and a ten dollar bill.
Her penmanship was excellent for a physician, everyone always remarked.
She moved in after mom passed, Dad had insisted. He would take care of his wife’s mother until the day he or she died. He vowed it.
Rarely speaking anymore, Grandma smiled when she walked past in the hallway, a tight smile as though the act of walking at her age was painful, and Tia figured it probably was.
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