The phone rang. The phone rang just as she turned to leave, had placed her free hand on the tarnished door knob. She turned back to stare at the ringing phone. The old phone she’d found in the box along with the faded photo and the menorah, was ringing.
It insisted. She put down the three crayons on top of the faded photo next to the menorah and the insisting phone. She brought the receiver to her ear.
White noise. The knuckles on the hand that gripped the receiver were white. The other hand. The white hand that overlaid her own. Its whiteness was a mist. Her own, slightly pinker hand, flickered in and out of visibility beneath it. For a while. Then only the misted hand remained.
“Hello?” she asked, from out of the white noise.
- “Missing” – Friday Fictioneers 100 word story – Historical Fiction, Jan. 16, 2013 (jemj47.wordpress.com)