Chrissy wandered the streets of San Francisco. She didn’t know what she was looking for other than an instinct that told her that this was the place.
Her feet ached as she slowly sat down on a bench. She had been walking two days from the Sacramento Train Station with all her belongings in the backpack on her back. She sobbed. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.
An inner voice replied firmly. No, you cannot give up. You’ve come all this way, you’ve never come so close. You cannot give up.
She was flat broke, her foster family never gave her a dime and they took away every penny she’d ever earned. She even had to pawn away her priceless guitar for a train ticket from Chicago to Sacramento.
“Are you alright?” A woman sat down next to her.
She nodded and looked up. Her eyes widened at the stranger. She was exactly how Chrissy remembered with their similar large brown eyes and curly honey-color hair. “Mom?”
This story was originally published on March 24, 2015.
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, a flash fiction challenge hosted by Priceless Joy from 2015-2019. In this prompt, we are challenged to write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) using the photo prompt given.