Five-Sentence Fiction: Sombrero

by Rachel Creager Ireland

The damn thing wouldn’t fit anywhere, not on the closet shelf, not in a drawer, not in a box to be stashed out of sight under the bed or in the locked storage space under the stairs. She should just throw it out. It always ended up in the way, on top of the dresser or falling off the bookshelf onto the couch right when she was about to sit down, with a plate in one hand and a TV tray in the other. Not that it really reminded her of –well, she was good at not thinking about things that didn’t need to be rehashed. She didn’t waste any energy on the past, and one of these days she would toss that sombrero right in the dumpster.

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