Hudson leaned his broom against the attic support post as he spied an ancient cigar box in the dusty corner. He opened the box, tossed the tarnished jacks across the floor, and bounced the rubber ball as he resumed an unfinished game.
A crushing pain seized his chest, and he collapsed to the floor, unable to move.
Soft footsteps approached behind him. “My turn,” said a child’s voice Hudson hadn’t heard for 50 years. Denny’s face appeared, his best friend who had vanished that summer long ago. He stretched out his hand. “Come with me, and we can play forever.”
*****
Note:100-word micro-fiction
