Her collection was impressive. Each of them carrying a memory. They all represented someone. Someone who had lived and breathed, someone once close to her.
She sighed, each of them was also a parting. They had been sweet, but she could no longer hear their breathing or smell the bedrooms where they had parted. Bedrooms where lights had gone out.
She smiled, each of them also represented part of her retirement funds. She had enjoyed her job, and now only one job remained, one lamp still shining bright.
“Here’s your evening tea, sweetie”
Afterwards, she turned off his bedside lamp.
So my 100 words turned a little dark this week. Hope you were surprised appropriately.
Friday Fictioneers is a group were you can read close to 100 great stories every week. Rochelle keep us under control and provides the picture prompt. Feel free to join, or go a head and read excellent stories.
February 5, 2014