Through the curtains I hear voices, pink as candy-floss.
Is this my merry-go-round? Future, present or my past?
An angel approaches, her wings are broken but her hair is gold.
“Are you awake, sweetie?” — she watches from above.
“Xylophone” — I mutter.
“Of course” — she sighs nonplussed.
I have memories. Shards of glass inside a kaleidoscope, turning and transforming. Speeding down the highway, sound of engines, smell of failing brakes.
“Veronica” — I whisper.
The angel strokes my brow, bend her head towards me.
I feel the warmth of her lips against mine.
Is this an end, or a new beginning?
The picture really had something dreamlike in it, and I imagine this to be the type of memory you would have after waking from a coma.
Rochelle selects the picture, we try to find a story somewhere in it and capture it in 100 words. Join the challenge if you dare.