She stood in front, wanting to get lost but seeing that possibility would be quite impossible. The maze couldn’t be her escape, it was small and the hedge was only waist high. She closed her eyes and felt the morning air on her cheeks, crisp and still. With her eyes shut, she knew, looking for momentary escapes like this was no longer the solution. A soft wind blew across her and she opened her eyes. It blew toward the road, away from the inn, and she followed it, away from him asleep in their room, away from his words, away. As she walked with the wind, she felt her own self, her old self, return—the friend she had been missing for too many years.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.