I've been going through my short stories, and I came across this piece of flash fiction written for The Clarity of Night...wow, maybe six or seven years ago?
The strange object loomed above them. “I wonder what that is,” Fontaine said. But he didn’t really care. It was silly to dwell on such things.
“See those wires?” Mary pointed. “I heard they used to carry some kind of power.” She slapped a pair of patched jeans against a rock.
“My grandmother says that, but she’s nuts.”
Mary nodded. “Crazy as a full moon in June.”
“Nutty as a nut tree.”
Fontaine threw the last of the wet clothes into his basket and got to his feet. “My grandmother refused to go through the mental cleansing.” There, he’d finally voiced his family shame.
“My mother says it’s vulgar to cling to memories.” Mary stood and picked up her basket. “A cleanse a day keeps the sorrow away.”
The sun rises in the East. All children turn toward the sun. Fontaine turned. “A cleanse in time saves a mind.”
The darkening sky reminded them of the impending loss of light. Side by side they hurried home, their shadows stretching and shrinking, bending and folding across the midnight road.