His children didn’t notice the look in their father’s eyes that afternoon; the present is all they cared for.
He still trusted his strength and his memory, but not his judgement. That part was no longer with him. It escaped somehow when he wasn’t paying attention.
Her father stood up from his seat slowly until he towered over the Mayor whose head now reached no higher than the Butcher’s paunch. And like the volcano that created their island, he erupted…
My entry for this week’s One-Liner Wednesday, hosted by Linda G. Hill.