by Meg Pokrass
But how could we not see even one potential dad on this highway? We drove slowly, taking turns at the wheel, stopping only when hunger like a mother asked us to sit down and eat. And sometimes there were large masculine shadows following us into convenience stores to buy HoHos or Tandytakes or Butterscotch Twinkles, the sustenance of life! We were getting bigger in order to feel small again. One of them could have been our dad, we said. Any one of them could have done it, it would have been so easy.
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Meg Pokrass teaches short form writing workshops and is the Founder and Managing Editor of Best Microfiction. Join her newsletter for inspiration and scheduled writing prompts.