Several times a day the old phone in the back corridor of the shopping mall rang, exactly 10 times. There were offices along the hallway; the back entrances to several shops, public restrooms, and an elevator. Once I saw someone crouched on the floor next to the booth, listening intently, the receiver pressed tightly to their ear. I laughed it off at the time as crazy. But I never stopped wondering about that old phone.

Then one day it rang and I raced over and lifted it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Kat!”

“Grandma?!” Grandma had died a year ago.

~kat
100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers based on the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.

Kim learned not to become attached to things, like a favorite toy or friends. At age 12 she understood that nothing is permanent.

“Kim,” her mother whispered urgently, “get your sister up and packed. We need to move right now. Don’t dawdle!”

It was the dead of night; it was always the dead of night, when Kim, her mother and younger sister would flee, slipping into the shadows until the next time they heard that “he” was getting too close.

“It’s for the best,” Kim told her tired, grumpy self, “but I miss home, wherever, whatever that is.”

~kat
(98 Words)

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer flash fiction challenge based on this
photo by  © Dale Rogerson.