Bob Weir’s vocals lilt from a second floor window, sibilating shhhhugar magnolia as the needle vibrates across a scratch in the vinyl. Naked in the August heat, Diana shelves her breasts on the windowsill, leans out to watch a couple of cubiches slapping dominoes with rhythmic clacks on a small folding table that belongs to the grocer downstairs. She smiles, takes a long, slow drag on the joint trailing from her fluid fingers, inhales deep. This summer has been her flowering, eyes open to the world: America’s involvement in Vietnam dwindling as Watergate hits the fan, revelations of secret bombing raids against Cambodia in ‘69 and ‘70, a looming energy crisis. Light and shadows. Scandals and war. Everything different, everything the same. --- Prompt #17 involved choosing five words from a FlashFlood story. Source text: 'Magnolia' by Emily Devane