March 4, 2025

My Sister’s Pink Mustache

By Kyle Smith-Laird

Photo by Monserrat Soldú on Pexels.com

She’s not this cancer-ridden husk; in my memory Sara lives.

She’s with Dad at the dinner table, ignoring Mom’s savory flapjacks and salty bacon, guffawing an arpeggio scale of unfettered glee, her eyes closed, cheeks ruddy, upper lip glistening pink with a Strawberry Qwik mustache.

I hold onto her hand — and the memory.

About the Author

In between walks with his dog, Kyle Smith-Laird enjoys writing, video games, reading, and learning foreign languages. His works have appeared in WIRED online, Cosmic Daffodil Press, One Forty Fiction, and The Simpsons.

Related Flash

village houses with damaged roofs and uprooted trees

Twister

By Mikki Aronoff

“First a whoosh like a runaway locomotive. Silver minnows fell from the sky. Windows feathered, fell onto shifting sidewalks. Buildings tumbled, entombing the townspeople.”

Dear Mathilde

By Mikki Aronoff

At dusk on the last day of second grade, we stopped doing wheelies in the empty lot down the street to watch Mathilde, rigid on the sidewalk as her mother shoved a suitcase into the trunk of someone’s car. Her mother never turned around. Never waved goodbye.

Sundog at My Window on a Midwestern Winter’s Afternoon

By Jay Summer

Glistening white sunlight bounds through my window, bouncing across the wooden floor like a pristine and puffed up Bichon Frise parading across the room with such pomp, you’re tempted to believe they understand the concept of “best in show.”

My Sister’s Pink Mustache

About the Author

Twister

Dear Mathilde

Sundog at My Window on a Midwestern Winter’s Afternoon

Publish

Support

Mission

Pin It on Pinterest