K, Mom

“Kida, she did it again!”
“What? Who?” Kida asked, facedown in her phone.
“Mom. She replied ‘K’ to my message.”
“You know she does that all the time. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I whispered. “It’s just weird.”
Kida looked up. “Mom doesn’t grasp its use as a contemporary innuendo, even after educating her a million times. Ignore it.”
“’Receiving a ‘K’ is like being flipped off, a virtual ‘fuck you.’”
“You must feel guilty about something.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What did you text her?”
“That I’m not going to church anymore.”
Kida laughed. “Yeah, consider it a holy ‘fuck you.’”

This piece was originally published in Friday Flash Fiction.

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