100-word Flash Fiction. #FridayFictioneers
A story inspired by this photo provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
It’s four o’clock in the morning. We are the last two musicians playing.
Shadows of souls flit across my vision.
The liquor is gone. The coffee pot is empty. Sandwich crumbs litter the floor. Smoke slithers across the room.
I’m hazy and giddy at the same time. My head swims in a fog of melodies and notes in four quarter time.
A broken string threatens to end the stream of musical consciousness.
Pain stabs through my hand. Blood oozes from my finger tips.
We laugh. We cry. We remember.
Tears stream down my face.
And still, we play on.