He held his daughter’s hair while she vomited into the toilet. An array of undigested colors and shapes propelled themselves from deep within her seven-year-old body. She convulsed and moaned slightly. “What did you eat,” he asked.
“Candy,” she muttered as he wiped her face with a cold face cloth.
“I know that,” he said. “But how much?”
She threw up again. “Just one,” she mumbled, “like you said.”
Just one, he thought. A Swedish Fish bobbed in the toilet bowl.
Tucking her in, he asked again, “Just one?”
“Yea,” she said. “One Butterfinger, one Snickers, one Skittles, M&Ms…”
Flash Fiction for Charli at Carrot Ranch.