Image Credit: Bikurgurl
It was a special day—my sister’s tapestry would be unveiled and displayed at the university. She’d been working on it arduously for four semesters, and hoped to win department honors, state-wide recognition, a cash prize and perhaps a coveted position on the faculty after graduation.
Students and staff alike gathered in the auditorium. Chit-chat quieted as the tapestry was unrolled with deliberate—or unconsciously dramatic—slowness.
I was in the front row, of course—and fortunate—so that my shock might be better concealed. There, in exquisite hues of rich floss, was the saga of our mercilessly nightmarish childhood.
© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.
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