Ficlets

Travis smiled a little, tried not to smirk. “Hey, don’t blame cancer. It’s not the cancer’s fault. Might as well blame the iceberg for the Titanic.” He chuckled casually and turned a sausage link, carefully eyeing Ricky.

The giant in the lawn chair seemed to ignore him, sniffling and trying to hide his tears. At six-eight, 310 pounds, Ricky was the biggest of the Cleary brothers. But he was also the gentlest, and he’d suffered for it as a child. Boyhoods in their town rewarded brashness over depth, cyclones where an hour of rain would do. Ricky had been all subtlety, a drizzle. Travis, by contrast, made it his business to be the family’s comic relief, a badly needed spring shower in the midst of drought.

Their brother Harlan had been a stormbringer.

But Harlan was gone. Hadn’t even been home to watch their mother die (although, truth be told, Travis might have missed out on that himself if given a choice).

It was as Travis was considering all of this that the storm stepped back into their yard….