by Ray Nessly
Backseat. Too late. She's really hollering now.
The cabbie pulls over to the side of the highway. One by one, babies slide into the world. Triplets. Eyes closed. Mewling. Three brand new, pale, wrinkly things. Just like Bella, his dog, her puppies, that time: backseat of the taxi. Alongside Highway 105. The roar of eighteen-wheelers passing.
Bella's triplets lived almost a day.
All rights reserved.
First appeared in
Apocrypha and Abstractions October 12 2015