The room tilted and Siobhan threw out her right arm, fingers closing around the towel bar. She closed her eyes. Bile rose in her throat and her knees buckled.
The silver bar and towel, with delicately embroidered flowers, lay next to her. Her cheek rested on the cool tile. A small puddle collected in front of her nose. The room rocked less now.
It was easy to explain yesterday. Loud vendors, flashing lights and dizzying rides at the fair had been excuse enough.
Today was different. No lights. No rides. Just them.
He had done this to her. To them.
This is my 100-word story for this week’s installment of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. She hosts a weekly flash fiction challenge with a photo prompt and a 100-word limit. Check it out and join the fun!
As always, happy trails!