A Stain on the Sofa

by Kay Sloan

She piddled on the leather loveseat, the buttery soft one by the fireplace in her son's living room, listening to her daughter-in-law prattle about their latest trip to Seville and Marrakesh. It was the Morocco tales that had gotten her juices flowing, the way her daughter-in-law had interrupted the conversation she'd been having with her nice friends, a semi-retired couple who lived in the neighborhood. All this foolish travel talk, just when she'd got going about the horror of Medicare billing and the cost of her perscriptions. They were draining her life savings, all eleven of them, from heart to thyroid to an expensiveanti-depressant. Why was she taking that anyway? What good did those little white pills do when she worried about how in the hell she'd pay for them? She'd be penniless soon enough from the costs, she was sure of that.

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