She was relieved to find that she was once again a person who read books. That she could always find a bookmark because they were strewn carelessly throughout the house—falling like leaves from whatever book she had just finished. There had been a period of years, when the kids were babies, when the bookmarks were corralled in a pencil holder on her nightstand. Unused. Unloved. Ignored. Now, they were like breadcrumbs in the forest, leading her further into the woods. When the children came home from school, they followed the bookmark trail to find their mother and demand snacks.
Cindy Cramer’s work has appeared most recently in Short Story Substack and CP Quarterly. She lives and reads in Gig Harbor, Washington with her family. Twitter: @CindyCramerWA