It should have been Eileen’s wedding — not her funeral.
After the guests had left Roberto went up to her room starting the healing-process.
The wedding dress still in its wrapping. Graduation photos, her diplomas and computer.
Every dream had been within her grasp.
He opened her desk-drawer, sifting through his daughter’s secrets.
The pink notebook with every habit listed.
The syringe and spoon and even a tourniquet.
So much has changed, he remembered how she cried when having her measles-shot..
Finally Roberto had something to do, because inked on the back of her notebook were the dealer’s contact details.
The image made me think of drug paraphernalia, the white powder on the spoon in particular.
In Friday fictioneers we write 100 word stories to the same picture. Rochelle is our leader and we are her minions. Tune in you too.
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June 12, 2019