Construction
Spat from the heavens. Wherever she worked in her life she felt alone – she felt different.
Today would be the worst day.
Under an incendiary morning sky, the skeletal frameworks of scaffolding impaled the horizon.
She knew they’d be up there. In the heavens, they’d be judging her. A construction site is no place for someone like her.
She was still convalescing, but need outweighed pain.
With every tentative step, she visualised the seeping, felt the rawness of fresh scars, the future sting of antiseptic, the lines of scalpel that created her.
Sure enough, they walked the suspended boards of cement-flecked timber from where the builders hung over the edge of the steel bones like handsome angels with hate in their heart.
They called her unimaginable names. They bared their skin.
She walked tall. She walked to her office where until recently she was still incomplete, still man.
For today was the best day. Today, at last, she was herself.
via Flash! Friday: Vol 3 – 5 | Flash! Friday.
I’m thankful to the judges for my Special Mention on this one.
Metropolitan Dreams 