The Trading Post

                                                                                         Photo prompt © Jean L Hays

‘Grandpa, are you sure we are at the right place?’

‘I think so. But it seems so unfamiliar.’

‘We have been driving around for eight hours. Let’s turn back; it will be dark soon for we won’t find any place here for the night.’

‘But he had said that he will be there at the trading post, come what may. I too had promised that I would come.’

‘When? Fifty years ago? You never even talked to him all these years. And you think he would be there.’   

‘I think so; he is a man of his word.’

Out of nowhere an old man appeared and slowly approached their car.

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A post for Friday Fictioneers

Word count 108