Photo prompt-copyright-Claire Fuller
It was not a great car but he loved it.
He had inherited it; his father had spent his all savings to buy it. Father loved it more than anything else in life.
But his wife and children derided him for his love for this “junk”; yes, that’s what they called it.
“When are you taking out the junk for repairs? I wish we could go on a long drive; get it repaired soon.”
He knew what she meant. She would not even look at it.
“I have already sold it.”
She was stunned; for once, she felt his pain.
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt