I haven’t eaten in two days. Made a home for myself in this alley— newspaper for blankets, my shoulder bag as a pillow against the stoop to our apartment.
When he sees me like this, he’ll let me back in, I lie to keep myself warm at night.
The light at the end of my “tunnel,” the sounds of traffic, the voices of strangers frighten me.
But I must prove to myself that I can live…
This short, albeit rusty, piece of flash (I’ve been away too long) is brought to you by Monday’s One-Minute Fiction, a challenge that asks you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided.
I struggled to squeeze everything I wanted to say into a minute, but maybe you had better luck with today’s B&W photo prompt…