The Littlest Thing
Copyright© 2025 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 5
“Visitor is probably the wrong wortd,” I said. I helped mom to a pool lounger. I settled her in, fetched a towel, dampened it in the pool and worried about her reaction.
She spluttered, “Eww ... pool water.”
“It was handy.”
She looked at the pool. The ‘visiting leather’ wasn’t visible.
“I think visitor is probably a misnomer ... survivor might be a better designation,” I suggested. I thought about it, “Invader works, too.”
“Invader?”
“I don’t know how many or what other species were on the vessel that crashed.” I had to think about that... “IF ... and that’s a big one ... if her parents arrived here on a ship or they teleported in.”
“Her?”
“She claims the feminine gender.” I said. “I’m not qualified to despute her.”
“Wait.” Mom was confused... “You will never make a good storyteller. Start with what you know and embellish it.”
So...
I told mom about cleaning the beach and tossing the ‘leather’ in the pool to soften. That needed a ‘why.’ “I make leather bikinis for the ladies who pass the information by word of mouth.”
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