PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
I knew as soon as I walked into the busy square, I knew I was home. Home. Home. Home. A word I never was able to repeat to myself until that exact moment. The history resonated out of each building and I could smell the food from various open markets. I walked slowly down the busy sidewalks and felt at peace even when I was jostled by the many bodies. The bodies of all shapes and sizes wearing an assortment of colors and textures. I knew I would fit right in. I knew I could disappear and never be found.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.
Standing Room Only 
Nice twist at the end. That wasn’t the sense of home I was expecting
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By: neilmacdon on February 24, 2022
at 6:12 pm
I wonder why they have not been able to find this home until now. Intriguing.
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By: Iain Kelly on February 25, 2022
at 3:16 am
Nicely done.
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By: Bill on February 25, 2022
at 9:34 am
True – fitting right in is one way of disappearing. I like your descriptions of the crowded street, and the end was a surprise that casts the earlier lines in a different light.
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By: Margaret on February 25, 2022
at 7:27 pm
Home – the place where nobody knows me. Oh, that sounds so sad. Of course, it was what he thought he wanted.
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By: oneta hayes on February 25, 2022
at 9:58 pm