(100 word flash fiction)
“I want my chair back!” She is uncharacteristically petulant.
“Honey please! I lent it only after Harry begged and begged.”
“It belonged to my grandmother.” Sadness begins to drape her like a shroud.
“He said he would return it next week.”
“She would sit on it, cradling me in her lap.” Tears appear between the cracks in her voice.
“I’m sure Harry will take good care of it.”
The phone rings. No one moves.
After the voicemail beep, Harry’s voice booms out.
“G’day mate. Your chair was the highlight. Burned like a match. You shoulda come for the bonfire.”
My weekly attempt at flash fiction all for the good cause that Rochelle promotes at Friday Fictioneers 🙂
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz