The Icicles

                                                                                  Photo prompt-copyright- Janet Webb

It would be the third winter that he would be all alone in this desolate place.

His son couldn't come even for mother’s funeral. He was too busy climbing corporate ladder. He had later called assuring that he would be with him on Christmas. Next year, he had said that he would surely try. This year he had not even called and Christmas was just a few days away.

He looked through the window. Everything was frozen. Tiny icicles hanging from frozen flowers attracted him.

“Did she like the icicles? No? Yes?”

It hurt him because he could not recall.

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A post for Friday Fictioneers on a photo prompt.

Word count 100