Thursday 20 November 2014

Junk


                                                                                       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

10 comments:

  1. I like this story, very well done.

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    Replies
    1. nice that you liked it, thanks for reading it

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  2. Dear Arora,

    I feel his pain, too.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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  3. Somehow it's less the car but much more the memory.. still it might be the best..

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    Replies
    1. it is always the memory that haunts you, thanks Bjorn for reading the post

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  4. Replies
    1. if only we could rid ourselves of memories, thanks Sandra

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