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A story prompt in an image. Omens. Something to come.
Twice a month, on the second and last Tuesday, a token of possible inspiration. What do you see here?
“My father’s house has many rooms.”
“We had to nail your windows shut as a kid. You thought you could fly.”
His parents nodded, almost in unison.
“You share a name with a boy in the family, you know? Thought he could fly, too. Went out the window at eight years old.”
“Wait what? I di-”
“He couldn’t fly, Tommy. He fuckin’ died.”
“No wait, why do we share a name?”