The hand grasped the case, the door snapped shut.
Hyena faces, distorted by dirty glass, cackled as they tore at Grandfather’s defenceless cello, their fresh kill.
I started after the departing train.
Sprawling on the dirty platform, betrayed by a bargain basement heel, I lay there, cheap mascara dissolving into zebra face stripes.
Anonymous shoes swirled past me and swept on to their homes and offices, leaving me fumbling for a crumpled return ticket.
I rested for a happy moment. Today was the day! A philharmonic audition, an heirloom to play on; what could possibly go wrong?
This story was written for Angela Goff’s Visual Dare- Timing