She took the bus to near as possible. Then walked. A few cars honked, perhaps to offer a ride. Perhaps to get something she wasn’t offering.
She waved them off. Walked on.
It made sense to arrive by foot. As in the times before.
The times she should have no way of knowing, yet did.
They’d tried to put her behind locked windows between soft walls when she first tried to speak of it.
She had learned not to.
But her soul knew.
And there it was. As then.
The stone crumbling, yet still her olden home.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields