Something is drawing me back, I’m sure of it. When I was seventeen, I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen and jet out of here but after years of traveling and abroad, I found myself on the highway, heading back to this small coastal town that had caused me so much misery.
So what is it?
I was walking down to the docks when I heard my name. Not the name I’m now known for but the name I was born with. “Charlotte?” I turned around and saw a dark-hair man with the most beautiful blue eyes walking toward me.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.