PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
She’d been confined in the spartan quarters for at least a month, maybe longer. The dark room offered nothing but time to think about what she’d done. Lying on the lifeless prison-grade mattress day after day, the only comfort came from light wiggling its way through the corrugated sheets of glass above her.
She studied wavering hues on the wall made by light’s refraction, remembering the rainbows in the woman’s dress; the look in her husband’s eyes; a black pit germinating in her heart. It was easy to run to the fifth floor balcony and leap off.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the illustrious host of Friday Fictioneers.