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.


5 responses to “Home”

  1. 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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