Edna twisted the chains with her aged knotted hands. It was strange, she thought, how people attached memories to such seemingly insignificant things.
“When I was younger …”
Suddenly, she was falling away; slipping through time and space. Shanghai-La, she thought, always attached to these chains.
She scrunched her eyes closed and let the tide take her. It was like falling through water; warm, peaceful, silent.
Then it wasn’t.
Edna’s eyes burst open. There were storm clouds on the horizon beyond her father’s new truck. She turned the chains in her now youthful fingers, “So funny the memories we cling to.”
PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy
Many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who wrangles in Friday Fictioneers every week.