She is the final offshoot of a disjointed family tree dating back numerous generations whose female lineage, though battered and bruised by the consequences brought on by numerous marriages ending in divorce, continued to snip off the branches of the fathers instead of attempt to mend the mothers broken ways.

Born of her mother’s first husband, (of whom no words were ever spoken), raised by her mother’s second husband, a man not at all above making the clear distinction between she, as her mother’s child, and his own daughters as ‘their’ children- she grew up with a craving to belong.

Such craving manifest itself in vapidly promiscuous behaviors, of both a sexual and chemical nature.  Escalating quickly they left her off unqualified to graduate, three months pregnant with the child of little more than a casual acquaintance, and a card carrying member of the drug culture before she was eighteen. 

At about this point in her story, someone among you as my readers will have already cast her into the pile of  “Just another all too familiar casualty in a stale tale of woe.” Somebody else will get that I am setting her up to triumph over generations of adversity.

Both assertions would be wrong. She is today, a nondescript woman of indiscriminate age. Having long ago given up her quest to belong, she lives contentedly, if not happily alone. Works at menial jobs as they are the easiest to come by when one relocates as often as she does.

She sleeps odd hours so as to make her periods of wakefulness seem fuller than they actually are. Writes fiction and poetry in lieu of human interaction. And thanks you from the bottom of her heart for being here today and every day she feels she has something to say.

This piece written in 50 word increments is my response to the three phrasal prompts offered by the OLWG #133, of which I was only able to include two, so I used the third as the title. The phrases provided were:

1. somebody else will get that
2. broken ways
3. a nickel after the hour