Friday, 3 June 2016
Flash Fiction Friday: Where it all began
Where it all began
Seeing the bench, for the first time in years, I was disgusted at the state of it. The paint had almost all worn away, some of the slats were warped, there was grafitti written all over it and it was covered in bird shit.
Putting the bag I was carrying on the floor I opened it up, removed a few of the items and went to work, painstakingly restoring it to what it'd looked like the first time I had ever met the woman I had spent the last twenty years calling my wife, and the woman who'd passed away less than a week earlier.