“Bubba….when it comes to six-month old Mahdisyn….you ARE NOT the father,” the talk show host declared on the television screen.
“Ha, I knew it,” Connie laughed, popping a handful of cheese curls in her mouth.
She heard the engine of the school bus idling outside, followed shortly by the squeak of the front door opening, her six-year-old son Kevin coming up the steps.
He entered her bedroom clutching a sheet of construction paper, wearing the same downtrodden expression he had since his father moved out of their home.
“Here, mommy, I drawed a picture of you today,” Kevin said, handing her a picture of a blubbery woman lying in bed holding an orange bag, the floor around her littered with garbage.
Connie stood from bed, turned off the TV and stretched, deciding it was time for a run.
The prompt for the six sentence story challenge this week was draw.