Another Five Sentence Fiction that needed to be written for, the photo encompassing the word prompt well.
She curled up in a ball so no one could see her - although
it didn’t matter because they never saw her anyway, much like when she had
lived at home; only visible when they wanted her to be a tool in an argument, a
sounding board for an emotional dump, or an excuse for their pain.
She rocked back and forth, the rhythm bringing comfort,
bringing calm, bringing solace.
Her eyes fell on the umbrella, all beaten up and discarded
alone in the middle of the street, pieces sticking out, bent and broken, ripped
and torn.
In that moment it was a kindred spirit understanding her
more than any living thing ever had. She only wished she could be as inanimate
and free of feeling.
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