They say many have a special place that is all important. They become part of it and it becomes part of them.
Others have an attachment to a defining thing, or even an idea.
I have been thinking about my life and wondering. What else can I do with the time?
I can remember sitting in Mother’s lap as she told me how pretty I will someday be in my wedding dress. She never called me pretty.
Perhaps I was more fixated on the dress than the man.
That same dress I was wearing as my new husband murdered me.
word count = 100
I have been away from Friday Fictioneers for a few weeks. I am hoping I will have time this week to read other posts…