#225

a light shone out from the house. this one bluer, more piercing than the glow illuminating the windowsills, the green checkered curtains her mother made from the leftover bolts of fabric cluttering the spare room.
as she turned, the sharpness of the light found her eyes, stinging for a moment, a far too rapid transition.
for a moment it made her feel hazy, concussed, floaty. stifling the little bit of clarity that might allow flight AND fight. it struck through her thoughts of the talking head's public service announcement. his polished hair and calm tone nothing close to the severity of the teleprompter's words.
whoever was holding the flashlight didn't bother to call her name. the figure just moved noiselessly forward, swinging the light side to side. not that she would answer anyway.
she wanted the safety blanket of night, the quiet, the solitude. she wanted to stay lost for just a little longer, that was all.