by Jane Hammons
She'd shopped for food. She was sure of it. She checked her pockets.
She pulled into the doorway. Uncertain where to spend the night. Certain there'd once been a place with food. Here. This place. She remembered. Curtains. Small tables. Coffee cups thick-handled and sturdy. Crockery.
Some words came back.
She checked for her hat.
She'd had a blanket. Tarp? Something stiff and damp against her cheek. Newspaper?
Uncertain now, she wandered into the street.
She'd had a cart.
She was certain.
She looked around.
Certain she'd once held something, she wrapped her arms around herself.