White-out days when she stumbled, her grip on reality was elusive. Crisp days of visibility when the ground felt solid beneath her feet. Edith never knew which one the next day would bring when she fell into sleep each night. She either rose shrouded inside a mist of forgotten-ness or embraced by the light of clarity.
“Good morning,” her husband said with a mixed expression.
His familiar kiss brought comfort.
“What day is it?” she asked.
“It’s Thursday, dear,” he soothed.
She sighed. “A long stretch away.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll always be here to hold the ladder,” he said.
This story is my contribution to “Friday Fictioneers,” a weekly challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff Fields. With the help of a photo prompt to inspire, we’re to write a 100-word story. It’s ‘easier said than done’ but a lot of fun! The photo this week was provided by our host, Rochelle.
If you would like to join in with this encouraging group of writers or read their stories from this week, visit here.
Thank you for stopping by. Stay safe, stay well!