I placed my outstretched hand a few inches from the slush coated windowpane and anticipated the moist freshness.
I eased each finger in turn onto the glass but, while it was cold, my hand remained obstinately dry.
Sometimes it’s the little things that bring out my inner demons.
I slapped one hand after the other against the glass before suddenly, without effort, they curled into fists as I pounded relentlessly, leaving moist red sticky trails.
I didn’t hear the key in the lock or the shouts of the prison guards as they entered.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly Flash Fiction challenge curated by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The limit is 100 words which I take great pleasure every week in respecting.
This weeks photo prompt is also © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thanks Rochelle!