It's already tomorrow

‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ Ciara said.

‘She’s the reason I’m here,’ Joanna replied, tugging her friends arm. ‘Her and the tens of thousands who had to travel. For me. For you.’

‘I know, but … it’s too ...’

‘You’ve already cried for Ireland, what’s a few more tears?’

At the foot of Savita’s mural were candles and a mound of flowers.

An old man was stood to one side crying, clutching his grand-daughter’s hand.

‘It still breaks my heart,’ Ciara sobbed.

‘All our hearts.’

The young girl pulled the old man’s arm. ‘Come-on, grandpa, it’s already tomorrow.’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.