The mall, once dilapidated, is now all chrome, glass and glitter.
A cold marble bench marks the spot where she lost Mikey, cold as the fear that gripped her when he was wrenched from her arms.
Twenty years today. But miracles do happen, children remember things. Bonds, however short-lived, cannot be severed so lightly.
A young man sits down; she catches his eye.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Jennifer’s heart lurches.
“Ah,” he says, rising.
The approaching woman stops abruptly, before delivering a resounding blow, snapping Jennifer’s head back.
“You evil bitch, you should never have been freed.”
After five months of frustrating building work, today I’m sitting at my new work-station, overlooking the vegetable garden, bordered by an artisanal Purbeck stone wall, topped with a plethora of late spring bulbs. Hopefully, my new surroundings will attract the muse that seems to have gone to ground for months now. Thanks to Rochelle, still finding time in her busy schedule to lead the Friday Fictioneers.