The flower reminded him of something.
‘I must be dreaming. We live in a concrete jungle.’
Something disturbed him.
‘What dress was she wearing? No, it is not the dress; it was the flower……..yes…..she was wearing a flower in her hair.’
He looked at the flower, again, and pinched himself. It hurt.
‘It’s not a dream. But where has she gone? She is not even familiar with the place……. she would get lost…..surely.’
He felt that someone was shaking him by his shoulder.
In the dim light he heard someone saying, “Don’t be harsh on yourself, she will get through.”
A post for FridayFictioneers on a photo prompt.
Word count 100