by Anika Carpenter
I drove my toy cars around the block patterns on Nana’s carpet, but when she put a steaming cup of tea next to me I didn’t imagine vast heating systems. New York meant nothing to me then.
The family cleared Nana’s bungalow, I claimed the tea set. The cracks in the glaze perfectly mirrored the layout of the fields around the village she’d lived in all her life.
Holding a cup close to my ear, over the sound of yellow cabs and buskers drumming trash cans, I hear, “I will bring you home. Every day you’ll lay flowers for me”.
Author bio: Ammophilous writer, art tutor & sucrologist. Longlisted in Reflex Fiction's Autumn 2018 comp, Winner TSS Flash 400 Winter 2018, runner-up BIFFY50 Microfiction Contest (autumn), long-listed Bath Flash Fiction Award October 2018, Highly Commended Dempsey & Windle Memorial Poetry Competition 2018.
Lineage is part of 101 Fiction issue 22.