The Photograph

This for Nortina’s #1MinFiction

 

 

That’s me. In the photograph. On my mother’s knee all those years ago. Staring unknowingly into the future. So that the future, all these years later, might stare back. And wonder. What was going on?

They took her away, they said, because there was something wrong with her. Or because there was something wrong with me. I don’t remember. What would be the difference?

So I don’t know what was going on, either. I think, probably, that somebody was scared of something they didn’t understand.

That is at the heart of most things.

 

2 thoughts on “The Photograph

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