So here I go again to see if I can come up with a 55 word flash fiction inspired by this wonderful painting by Henri Matisse.
Reeling memories did not steal away Zorah's serenity. Watching Zorah during her contemplative hour, I realized that I no longer was a journalist chronicling a life. The fragile touch of her hand startled the quiet within me. I could not move away from those humble eyes. I tremble to think of the horror she witnessed.