Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of August 8, 2017
Words count: 175 words
I keep falling off the blogging wagon lately – mostly because I’m still trying to get to grips with my new job working in a legal department! I’ll be more active soon (and getting on with my travelogue), with everything back to normal, once I figure out both my sleeping schedule and my blogging schedule. But here’s a little something for the week. Again, a tad melancholy, but I hope it’s a little uplifting too.
When she woke up dead of the night, two things were out of place: the light in the woodworking shed was on, and her husband’s side of the bed was empty, cooling. With a fond smile, she pulled on her dressing gown, a pair of sneakers, and tiptoed into the shed.
Her beloved, salt and pepper streaking his hair and beard, sat hunched over a desk, tools in his hand. She rapped on the ajar wooden door.
His eyes were wide, anxious when he whipped around, but he smiled seeing her.
“What are you up to?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his temple. Then she saw a old photo, the half-formed piece of wood. Her heart ached.
“It’s his birthday soon,” her husband murmured, gesturing to the younger boy in the photo. “Didn’t want him to go without a present.”
“No, we wouldn’t.” She sat next to him, peering at his designs. “Need help?”
Next week, they laid the perfectly carved bike on his baby brother’s grave, and mourned.