(100-word flash fiction)
He had come home one day and found them all gone, including his house. There was just a bomb crater in their place.
But his heart refuses to believe they are dead. By day, he combs the refugee shelters, eyes bright with not blinking.
At night, he soothes himself with memories. How little Fatima she would spring into his arms, smile brighter than sunrise, a tinkling santur for laughter.
He hears hopeful stories of boats and stories of death.
Finally, he spots her. The sunshine of his life. On a newspaper page.
Only, in her eyes, the sun had set.
Tried hard to write a lovely, little sweet story, but my muse is a stubborn one 🙂
Thank you Rochelle, for hosting this weekly party of eclectic flash fictioneers 🙂 And, your photo is lovely!
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields