“I don’t know what to make of it,” Arlene shook her head.

“Of the sunset?” Molly’s already reedy voice rose higher.

Arlene took a deep breath. She forgot just how literal her sister-in-law was.

“No, the sunset is beautiful,” she stated. “And the arches.”

Molly turned to face Arlene. The glow from the ball of fire in the distance rendered one of her cheeks fire-orange, the other ashen-gray.

“So what did you mean?”

Arlene pointed to the oddly shaped building to their right. “This. Looks like what Lenny would build.”

“Lenny is three.” Molly noted.

“Exactly,” Arlene said. 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo by Dale Rogerson