PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Matilda took the pills and sat her cup aside. She gripped the sink’s edge to steady the relentless tremors.
Gazing out the window, she watched the ripples turn to rapids. Unprecedented flooding, forecasters warned, move to higher ground.
She’d lived by that river her entire married life made memories here.
Matilda, her gait unsteady, ambled to Fred’s recliner and dropped exhausted into the chair. Warning banners ran across the silent TV screen.
She closed her eyes against the sound of rushing water and pressed Fred’s picture to her chest. Hold on honey; I’m moving to higher ground.
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Millie stood at the window and stared into the early morning mist. This was her favorite time of the day when the quiet awakening of the world enveloped her like a soft blanket of hope.
She smiled as the sun began its rise over the distant hills. As if from the hand of God, prism like tentacles of light stretched through her window and brushed her cheek.
Renewed in spirit and strength, she ran a hand over her bald head, felt the first hint of new growth, and said a prayer of thanks for another day.