Her Hands

by Kay Rae Chomic

My mother had strong hands. She could break an apple into two perfect halves with one twist of those hands. She could smack sense into my brother with a hint of a slap. My dad let her massage his shoulders while he went into someplace like heaven. For me, her hands meant pinches, squeezes, holds — nothing I liked. I have her hands and try to keep them in my pockets.


Kay Rae Chomic is a novelist (A Tight Grip), and writer of flash: Cabinet of Heed, Ellipsis Zine, Retreat West (1st place-micro fiction), Every Day Fiction, Hundred Heroines, LISP (semi-finalist), Storgy Magazine, Crack the Spine, Five:2:One, 50-Word Stories, Hysteria 6, and more. Kay lives in Seattle, loves Motown music, and delights in happy hours.