Jazz Robertson

At Long Last, Sarah Smiled

The little black notebook was the only item left, the only thing with her name on it; everything else had been picked over. Her mum’s jewelry, her dad’s musical instruments, even the house itself was up for sale. There had been some discussion about living in the house after the death of her father, but that idea was quickly scuttled in favor of selling up and paying off some debts. Sarah wanted to buy the house, but she was a few thousand dollars shy of affording the down payment. Her siblings, in their eagerness to move on, didn’t consider that their plan would effectively make her and her daughter homeless.