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
I like this story, very well done.
ReplyDeletenice that you liked it, thanks for reading it
DeleteHow sad!
ReplyDeletejanet
yes i felt too so, thanks Janet
DeleteDear Arora,
ReplyDeleteI feel his pain, too.
Shalom,
Rochelle
thanks Rochelle
DeleteSomehow it's less the car but much more the memory.. still it might be the best..
ReplyDeleteit is always the memory that haunts you, thanks Bjorn for reading the post
DeletePoor man. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteif only we could rid ourselves of memories, thanks Sandra
Delete