Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Steve observed his grandmother as she rocked in the corner of the sun porch, readers perched on the tip of her nose. He would be lost without the woman who had lovingly raised him after his mother died fifteen years earlier while giving birth to him.

“Gramma, you rock!” he blurted, wiping away a tear.

“Yes, I do.” Smiling, she rocked faster.

“No, I mean you rock!”

“Oh. Hope that's a good thing.”

“It is, Gramma.”

“Well then Stevie, you rock, too!” She smiled and put her nose back in her book.

Steve’s life would change drastically when Gramma died. He would have to move in with his father until reaching eighteen years of age...three years with that horrible man.

Gramma looked up from her book. “Did you know that dog food made from the mad cow could end up covering someone's lawn with prion-infested landmines.” She pointed to the book. “It’s pronounced pree-ons. It's all in here.”

His grandmother always found a way to make learning fun.

“I'll check it out.” And he would. “What's a prion?”

Gramma handed him the book.