“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.”

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©Jan Wayne Fields

 

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