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Weekly Contest #260
He said, ‘I’ll love her ‘til I die.’ I placed my hand upon his shiny, bald head and pushed him down into the back seat of the black and white. Goddamn husbands and their regrets. ‘Save it, buddy,’ I said, and tapped the Plymouth’s roof with the flat of my hand. Fallen leaves and prickly seed pods snapped, crackled and popped under the departing wheels like a copywriter’s breakfast cereal. I took in a lung full of the crisp Autumn air, then lit a cigarette to make up for it. Somewhere between getting the call and turning up to the scene, i...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #258 ⭐️
The camera was as much his companion as it was his tool. He might only take three or four pictures in an hour. Sometimes less. So, he used a tripod these days, one almost as tall as him, and also a long snap cable that enabled him to move about. ‘What do you reckon?’ he’d murmur, pacing slowly back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, clutching the snap. ‘Shall we wait a bit longer? Might the light change? Will a bird fly in do you think?’ Until eventually a calm silence descended, punctuated by a soft click when he squeezed the shutte...
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