Bill sat huddled in the corner of the kitchen. I caught the gleam of the oil lamps in his eyes but his features were lost in the shadows.
“Aren’t they lovely,” he exclaimed.
“Yes my dear,” I replied, as kindly as I could.
Since he’d started to read danger in every newspaper article, he’d become increasingly anxious and distant.
Sacks of rice almost obstructed the entrance to his inner sanctum, the walls were lined with tinned foods and bottled water.
Suddenly, it was more than I could bear.
My only thought was to escape.
To live again.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge curated by the lovely and talented author, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Rochelle also provided this week’s photo prompt. Thanks, Rochelle!