I looked down at the crocodiles, or were they alligators?
They hadn’t moved since I arrived.
The one on the right blinked.
How long had I been here? It must be getting late. I’d seen no one for ages.
I glanced upwards and squinted at the sun. Was it past midday?
I looked right then left for a clock face and turned back the sleeve of my jumper. My wrist was bare.
I thought of my sister.
“It’s a half past a freckle,” she used to say, her dimples highlighting her soft pink cheeks as she giggled.
It brought back other memories of pocket money, lucky bags and the occasional plastic toy made in Hong Kong.
Dad would send us off to play.
“What time is lunch?” I would ask.
“Be back by 12 sharp. Not a minute before or a minute after.”
“But I don’t have a watch,” I would reply.
“No excuses,” he would say, scowling through clenched teeth.
I can still hear the swishing before each stroke and feel the cool ointment my mother applied afterwards.
I looked down the path. No one was coming.
“Damn,” I said aloud, “why didn’t I bring my watch?”
For this weeks Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner (FFftPP) I’ve been a bit naughty. The link to the wonderful prompt provided by our host Roger Shipp is somewhat tenuous and I’d already written my fiction before rereading the provided sentence (It was instinct. I just let go of them.) and don’t feel I can work it in as the story is more about holding on than letting go. I could have worked it in but would have needed more words to do so and I’m already at the upper limit (198) I hope you’ll forgive me.