Even as a child, she was drawn to the night
when the air was soft and fraught with life.
He, too, a child of twilight—
mysterious boy boomerang in his belt.
Was my father’s, he said,
dog circling, divining the night air.
Fingers entwined, he taught her to throw
so it would always come back.
If it's Friday, or Friday Eve, it's time for Flash, Flash 55. This weekly event is hosted by the G-Man who loves fiction with a plot and 55 words.