Both of them, the old man and the child, were intently looking at the horizon. Where does it end? Both of them were wondering.
“Grandpa, is it very painful, this surgery?”
“Well, they inject some medicine. One is not conscious of anything.”
“You will miss me.”
“No, you will be always with me.”
“Where does it end, grandpa?”
“I don’t know, honestly.”
“It’s such a beautiful day. I wish I could touch the sky.”
“Dam it. We will cross the bridge …….”
“Perhaps it may never come?”
The old man got up. The child felt a tremor when he touched grandpa’s hand.
A post for Friday Fictioneers on a picture prompt.