I’m sorry to be so late in getting my flash fiction posted for the Fictioneers. Though this was one of my favorite photo prompts by Madison Woods, sometimes life gets in the way of our writing. Throughout the week, I hope to make my way through all of the stories prompted by this photo.
He wondered if he looked as worn as the old truck; sure felt as rusted. When he opened the door to get in, it groaned, just like he did when he got out of bed after a long, restless night.
“Morning, Sally.” Same words he’d whispered every morning of the fifty-five years he woke next to her. He took a deep breath and ran his crooked fingers over tattered upholstery. “We had us some good times in this here front seat, didn’t we?”
He watched the urn that rested where Sally used to sit, as if waiting for an answer.