She sat beneath the camellia, absently rubbing a broad, waxy leaf between finger and thumb. Only the tips of her feet, clad in baby pink Mary Janes, peeped out as heavy drops of rain began to fall echoing the weight in her heart. Bile rose in her throat and a wave of nausea threatened to remind her of breakfast. Her name rang out and she pressed her tiny spine against the thick, shrubby stem desperately biting her hand to prevent the accumulating sobs from noisily escaping – silence was vital. Heavy brogues padded up the garden path, searching, coaxing and impatient…and pink shoes gently withdrew from sight, receding beneath the camellia’s protection.
Photograph from: http://www.treesdirect.co.uk/shop/celebration-days/camellia-japonica-
Note: If you need to know what happens…find out in my National Flash Fiction Day piece here…