September 11. Again.

September 11.

Time to commemorate – with a game. Again.

Alice rewrapped the bandage around her heart, knowing it might not contain her multiform grief. Sometimes it flashed, luminous, burning; other times it was nebulous, tickling.

She still remembered the day Frank had foisted his chess board upon her… and his deliberate blunder that swung the first game in her favor.

This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:

27 thoughts on “September 11. Again.”

  1. This is a delightful nibble of thought that makes me what the entire cake. Weaving 7 prompts into such few words while speaking volumes is a marvelous gift.

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