Dawn was Dylan’s hangover, for she treasured the dark. In the mornings, she missed the crackling of embers from a bonfire, sparklers lit just for fun, and the catching of fireflies in a Mason jar.
In her country home, she’d finally found peace. With that realization you’d think she’d found a love to share it with. Instead, she’d found it in her grandchildren, the scent of fresh brewed coffee, and wildflowers growing in her side yard.
Coffee in hand, Dylan sat on the back porch step. Morning washed over her, while she unscrewed the lid and let the fireflies go.
100 Words/Genre: I have NO idea
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. It is an honor and a privilege to have Ms. Rochelle critique my work. Please be sure to go to her page and read their stories too. We are a rather eclectic group and the genres run the gamut.
I welcome kudos and criticism. Seriously, rip it up if you want.