… not necessarily sane
A blazing flash of light and I thought; I’ve been here before!
It was an important day; for my husband. A record 56-game hitting streak. It looked different then.
I was wearing a dress made famous by a film clip, over a subway tunnel.
Stunning white material, over long pale legs, blowing around me!
He cried hard at my funeral. They all did, my mother, the crowds. I can remember it, like it was yesterday.
He wasn’t there. The politician.
Funeral? Husbands? The memory is clear as glass. But it doesn’t make sense.
I’m only a boy, aged 10. This is my local playground.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here.