Ficlets

Katrina

“Pass the Tony, would you?” Uncle Brook elbowed me, smiling and pulling yet another head off a crawfish. With a returned grin, I passed the seasoning into his grimy hand. content, I looked down the table at the rest of my family. It was a miracle we had made it all together, so soon after the hurricane. Everyone here, my aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters and brothers, they all had some type of horrific story about how Katrina had tore their home to the ground. But now we gathered to eat crawdads and forget all about the storm, to argue about LSU football and be a family again. Jessie ran up to me, a live crawfish in her hand, and dropped it on the table in front of me. “Look at my pet,” she said. “That is a very cool pet you have there. What’s her name?” I knew all of Jessie’s pets that came and go were girls. “Her name is Katrina.” I frowned. “Uh Jess, why don’t you go help Aunty Donna in the kitchen?” Jessie giggled and ran off, and without thinking, I stood, scooped up Katrina and set her on the bayou bank.

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