The crowd increased with every passing minute.
Deidra hated crowds.
She felt the air disappearing around her.
Misty’s teacher had insisted all students attend the ceremony.
“Extra credit for anyone who takes a snapshot of President Trump.”
Deidra turned to her daughter.
“Look, I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Deidra felt panicked anxiety.
She heard gunshots.
A guard grabbed her arm.
He pulled tightly as she tried to release his grip.
“Ma’m, please,” he said. “I think your daughter’s been shot.”
“Tye-dye jacket; blond hair?”
Unbearable, howling anguish cries!
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: Roger Bultot
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