Saturday 29 February 2020

Golden Hair

by Gill James

pink cava

They liked her golden hair, the men who worked in the market. Their own girls were dark with matching brown eyes.  Her eyes were blue like the sea and her hair was like the sun-blessed corn of the north.
They would take a fist full of shellfish or slice another strip of steak after her parents had settled the bill. 
“Para ella,” they would say.
She understood neither what they said nor why they gave her parents more. 

About the author 

See Gill's latest short story collection Other Ways of Being: 

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