Death Sentence
By Megan Hippler
Grandma’s ghost said we need to break up.
She said you’re full of hot air.
Or maybe you’re too gassy?
Honestly, the Ouija board didn’t give the clearest answers, and Monica refused touch the shuttle long enough for me to clarify. Apparently, transcribing Grandma’s cake recipe cut into the time slot we’d designated for her to contact her childhood cat.
Some people just don’t know how to prioritize.
I mean, you all know how much Grandma meant to me.
I’ve left you a slice of her cake on the counter with my keys and the ring. I hope it’s alright.
Megan Hippler grew up haunting the foggy West Virginia hills and now writes speculative fiction from her Australian home. Her work has appeared in Queer Sci Fi’s flash fiction anthologies Clarity and Rise, Re/Coded, and On the Premises magazine.