Lives of the Saints by Nino Ricci
8 min @ crafted
She was not well. Her skin was pale and dark where it shouldn’t be. She was not well and she was mean. She’d always been a bit sharp but now she was all bite and venom. Even her smile was a mockery of kindness. Although she genuinely adored the children, they were terrified of her. They did not trust the sweets she offered but would not taste herself. When she forced them to take from the bowl, the fine gold chain at her wrist looked like it might sever the vein as it sawed back and forth with the insistent gesture.
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