Felicity wrung her wrinkled hands as she peered through the upstairs window. Every afternoon as the sun went behind the house the shadow of the chimney glared at her like a sentinel, ensuring she remained locked inside.
It had been fifty long years. How would they know she had been beautiful before this merciless pandemic struck?
She flung open the balcony door. The railing had fallen off years ago. It was time to jump.
No, no not like that. This was her usual afternoon routine. Her only escape into the garden below. How else did the lawn get hand cut?
Friday Fictioneers is a place for flash fiction brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Visit Rochelle’s site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.