I was introduced to flash fiction in one of my undergraduate classes. The challenge was to write a piece less than 100 words. This was the product and my inaugural flash fiction.
Twelve strokes of the silver, rose-filigreed brush through her wisps of long hair. She gazes out the window toward the lake below. Can she see the boys jumping from the end of the dock? Does she feel the warmth of the bonfires licking at the stones of the ring we made forty years ago? These stories, I share every day as I tuck the blanket around the edges of her chair. A glimpse into her familiar eyes affirms—I am the only one who recalls.