‘Why can’t he ever call us? If he has no time to video chat he can at least make a phone call? But he would only write letters.’
He kept quiet. He knew all the answers but he did not have the courage to tell her. She was bedridden for almost three years; he could not compound her suffering.
‘It’s almost one year now that he had written a letter; no? Why don’t you go to the post office; some letter may be lying there undelivered. You know how lazy these people are.’
Somewhere out there a ship blew its horn.
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.
Word count 101