This is the 98th installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
Doris enjoyed tapping her nails on the table to annoy everyone. It’s there in her eyes—the utter glee. The rest of us have decency and respect and manners and good sense and mothers who raised us right, and we’re just sitting, waiting, but Doris? She’s just tapping away.
Some would call it a nervous habit or misplaced energy. I don’t share that charitable view. She’s doing this on purpose.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
It doesn’t help that the lawyer is 12 minutes late. None of us were looking forward to the will reading, exactly, but we’d like to get it over with. Even Doris, I think.
Growing up, she was always nastiest when shit went wrong in her life. She’s hurting now. She lost her mother. I get that—but if this goes on much longer, I’ll have to break her fingers.
Miles Away 