‘What’s that Grandpa?’
‘That’s an airplane.’
‘It looks like a …toy or is it a…puppet?’
‘It’s an airplane. I built it like that when I was a kid. I would often fly on it. When everyone would go to sleep I would quietly leave through the window. I would go to strange places. What fun I had?’
The little boy was too innocent not to believe his Grandpa. Besides, he was fascinated by the ‘airplane’ and didn’t want to dispute what the old man was saying.
‘Of course you can. But I will have to teach you how to fly it. It looks simple but it’s rather a complicated machine. You will have to stay here for a few days if you want to learn to fly it.’
‘But we are leaving tomorrow.’
‘That’s not true,’ the old man was taken aback. He knew that his son had come for a short visit but he did not know that he was to leave tomorrow.
‘Insist with your father, tell him that you need to stay here for a few days more.’
‘I don’t know,’ the child said wistfully.
Next evening the old man tapped the airplane. ‘Where do you think we can go on our dream trip?’ he asked in a melancholy voice.
A post for Sunday Photo Fiction.