October Flash Fiction #6 - The Empty Wrapper

“Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,” said Alice; “but when you have to turn into a chrysalis—you will some day, you know—and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, won’t you?”

            “Not a bit,” said the Caterpillar.  Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 5

She caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner:  in another moment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood, with both arms stretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice very civilly went to meet her with the shawl.  Through The Looking Glass, Chapter 5

Mimsy’s arms reached across the batiked throw in a luxurious, queen-sized stretch.  The sun fluttered on the window.  Why should leaves or feathers have all the fun?  Her sleepy eyes traced the shape of an insect or dragon in the swirls of plaster on the ceiling, the conspiracy network of cells in her brain constructing intention in the bored worker who really just wanted to be done texturizing the drywall so he could go crouch on the damp back stoop by the mushroom-infested planter box and smoke Marlboros until it dried.

She glanced across the hedged sheets and rumpled blanket at the empty wrapper.  He had been handsome enough, she supposed, in a galumphing sort of way.  She snickered a bit as she recalled his beaming eyes, his whiffling about the future.  Perhaps it was a little sad.  He was really only a snack.

Which reminded her.  She wanted toast this morning.  Toast and butter, since there was no jam today.