Photo prompt © Mary Shipman
“Are you there? Please open the door.”
I woke up with a jolt, I was sure I had heard uncle’s voice. But how was thought possible? He was in his home, two thousand miles.
A deep feeling of regret welled up in my heart; he had brought me up like a son and I had not gone back even once in twenty years. I didn’t even recall when I last called him.
Something in me forced me to leave at once. Three days later I reached his home; the shop was closed. But I was late.
He had passed away at midnight three days back.
A post for FridayFictioneers on a photo prompt
Word count 105