Red bougainvillea made a splash against a white wall as Tom wondered where he was.
When his mind wandered he’d sometimes get lost in imagined disasters he could do nothing about. Fortunately, although they seemed determined to mess with him to the extent they still could, he had enough sense to reject dark demonic misdirection.
Then Tom saw Phyllis wave to him in the distance. He hadn’t seen her in a decade, not since the funeral. Her smile and the joyful brilliance of the bougainvillea told him his journey was finally over and a new, better one had just begun.
Denise offers the prompt word “mess” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.