Mask Off
The tinkling bell didn’t shake Daisy after Fred entered the florist again. He tramped to the counter, over which she lay in sleeping position.
“Excuse me miss,” he said.
She looked up in tears. “Go away! Please.”
“Here…” Fred tossed a ribboned box of pralines on the counter. “For you.”
Daisy sniffled. “Uhm… what?” She blinked her eyes rapidly, readjusting her hair.
Fred twirled the ends of his mustache. His mask moved a tad along with the motions.
“In two hours, I’ll put these flowers on my father’s grave before he goes into the ground.” Fred inhaled audibly. “And that’s not your fault.”
Daisy gasped. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“No,” Fred said. “I’m sorry.”
Sjoerd van Wijk is a writer, filmmaker and cultural journalist from Nijmegen, the Netherlands. His work in fiction often deals with themes of alienation and loneliness. Sjoerd recommends Stichting Long Covid.
