Tess stood at the corner of Advent and Main, leaning against the rusted street sign, holding a cigarette to her red pouty lips. She looked at the line of broken-down houses with tarps where chimneys ought to be. She glanced in the window of number 29, saw her mother sitting in the overstuffed chair she’d dragged from the good side of town where she cleaned houses three days a week.
“I’m leaving,” Tess had told the chair, staring at the hole in the arm where the stuffing escaped.
Her mother didn’t look up from the television. “Be home by curfew.”
This was written in response to The Hundred Word Challenge.