Memory is what I have instead of a view.
He hasn’t spoken, yet I’ve heard him.
And he knows.
I stumble past, trying not to catch his eye. I might as well endeavor to fly.
My sister pauses, reading the plaque on the outer cage perimeter.
“Poor thing,” she mutters.
Those who know no evil suspect none.
His head is cocked towards me.
But you, my dear…
Those dark eye-holes glitter.
… are quite another thing.
I look away. He can’t possibly know…
Come, sit awhile. We have much to share…
“You go ahead, sis, I’ll catch up with you.”
It’s that time of the week again, time for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle, for all her efforts in keeping this particular attraction on the road. Apologies to Hannibal Lecter for the opening line… 😉