I could feel her soft, wrinkled hand tightening on mine. I don’t know how long we stood before she finally spoke.
“I was looking out that window over the sign. I saw your grandfather’s mother kill mine. Just because she wasn’t the same color. It’s been seventy years now. It feels like just yesterday.”
I got my tongue working. “Grandma, how could you marry him?”
She turned, soft brown eyes wet with tears. “It wasn’t easy but love won. Hate lost. You’ll be going off to college soon. You won’t forget that, will you?”
“Like the sign says, Grandma, ‘NOPE’!”
word count: 100 written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers click on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's hand-drawing of the frog for more tales of a hundred words or less. And join the fun!