Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist.  This week’s word:
HUNT

Fred found Carol in the basement with her head buried in their old wedding trunk and her tail in the air shining, in all its glory, from underneath her cotton nightgown.

“What in tarn nations are you doing  down here at three in the morning?” He asked, enjoying a view he hadn’t seen in a long time, “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Looking for something and no, it can’t wait,” she said, sending more items over the side to the dusty floor.

Fred  moved  closer, his eyes widening as Carol squealed, “Found it.”

She held out the tantalizing red nightgown Fred hadn’t seen in 30 years and grinned, awakening in him a renewed vigor, memories, and hopeful promises.