a poem in my pocket

She hadn’t visited for a whole week and felt a little guilty. She was his only daughter and had moved him to be closer to her. The staff at the memory care unit were attentive and Dad seemed well-adjusted to the move. He was eating better than before and sometimes when she came, they could have an actual conversation.

When she arrived that afternoon, he was sitting in a straight chair at the dining room table, perusing the local newspaper. “Hi Dad! How are you?!” she greeted, a bit too cheerily. He startled and stared at her with a troubled expression.

“What are you reading?” she queried in a softer voice.

“The obituaries…didn’t see my name yet,” he responded dryly.

She hid her smile and hesitantly asked, “Anybody we know?”

“I didn’t recognize all of the names swallowed up by the cold…”

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A 144-word prosery prompt by Bjorn at dVerse Poets, including a line by Swedish poet laureate, Tomas Tranströmer (the final line of my prosery).