Linen and Lace

She lived to be the oldest of a staid, unremarkable bourgeois family. Lavender and off-white lace, complemented her black ruffled attire. She played the Granddame with much aplomb, the matriarch of her passionless clan. Occasionally her offspring and her offspring’s offspring came to her for money, a few with questions, appeals, unctuous compliments She offered only sneers, curled and haughty lips. In her days there were giants on earth, they did not reach just for the middle shelves. Their thoughts were painted hot-air balloons, they imagined rocket ships made out of bicycle parts. Was it her fault that humanity had shrunk? Day after day she gave audience to unimaginative midgets, the small minded affronted by her regal demeanor. When she died they gathered to pick the spoils, unfortunately for them she had long disinherited her fortune considering her kindred all just cheap satin stitched over bovine buttocks.