“It’s time for me to go, Gloria. It’s 3:00 already. Where does the time go?”
Grandma worked the night shift at the hat factory. Not many liked working the 4 to midnight hours.
Listening to her hat-making stories was fascinating.
As a child, I always wore the most stylish hats. She made them from leftover scraps of material from her work station.
Yesterday, I overheard her angry words about Mr. Grossman.
“He had the nerve to presume he could touch my breast,” she told my Mom. “Here, I thought he’d been generous with the leftover materials. I quit.”
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt©Jan Wayne Fields
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge