The truck stops. Today is the day they come to get the wheelchair. The boa is off, the tiara she wore is now on my head. My mom and I used to joke this was her throne. Two men enter, one takes the monitor, the other one takes the chair. I sign the papers of surrender. Handing me the cushion, he kindly says he’s sorry. I follow them out, one hand on the cushion, the other shading my eyes from the sun. Through her fingers, I watch them load the chair. I hold the cushion tightly, my queen is gone.
Nilsa Mariano grew up in Williamsburg, New York. She currently lives in Syracuse. She has recently been published in Stone Canoe, Five Minutes, Wild Greens Magazine, and The Muleskinner Journal. Instagram: @NilsaEvie.