January 28 Prompt: Any, any, jar of rainbows, written for Persuasion.
Sometimes, when everyone gathered by the radio, Agnes dawdled at the lonely old Broadwood and plucked the keys for herself alone. Then, as the sun’s afternoon haze bent a prism across the ivories, she couldn’t stop herself from humming a tune forever tied to her fondest memories.
At least he was somewhere way up high: a happy pilot flying beyond the rainbow she could only glimpse in reflections of the past.
