The number 4 was a show-off. More limber than the others, she could move her lines in any direction like an acrobat. And she had that artful little triangle in the middle.
1 suffered. Social anxiety disorder, panic attacks, anorexia. Longing to be last, not first.
7 was so confident of her superiority, she didn’t need to brag. Divine perfection as God worked his butt off and then rested on day 7. Islam’s 7 Heavens, Hinduism’s 7 sacred rivers, 7 days of Passover, Sukkot, Shiva. Yada yada yada. 7 knew she was divine but kept it to herself.
Mother 10 played favorites although she denied it.
5: always pregnant. When younger, she popped out those babies easily, nursing and cuddling them briefly, then waving them off into the numerology universe. But she was older now. Being pregnant, giving birth: exhausting. The only Catholic number, she’d pleaded with the bishop for dispensation for birth control. No. “Suck it up,” said Mother 10. “The population of numbers is declining. Disgusting how Alphabet’s births are skyrocketing.”
8 was a shopping influencer. Over 10 K followers. Sideways, she was infinity. So—endless buying! She was generous to 1, buying her meditation apps, soothing oils, light therapy lamps.
2 went missing after a blind date. Mother 10 didn’t allow them to speak of her.
3, 6, and 9: triplets. Their own secret language. Secret meetings with Alphabet. Revolution brewing. They hoped it would be bloodless.
Claudia Monpere received the 2024 New Flash Fiction Prize from New Flash Fiction Review and the Genre Flash Fiction Prize from Uncharted Magazine. She has stories in Best Small Fictions 2024 and 2025 and Best Microfiction 2025 and 2026. Her collection, The Periodic Family, is forthcoming from Cowboy Jamboree Press.