It’s where I thought we’d sit at night, to hear the crickets till they were silenced by the chill of fall. We’d sit together fireside, while your fingertip traced lazy circles in my palm.
I’m not an outdoorsy girl, but the fire sounded nice, while seated on a bench fashioned from a felled oak in the backyard. All that’s left of us now are the stump and a few fleeting memories of the plans we had.
With my coat buttoned against the cold, I head out to meet the handyman that will finish the work that your leaving left behind.
Genre: Romance, I think
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. The stories don’t come too often for me, but when they do they come quickly and I just have to grab them! Please feel free to critique my work as I’m always open to suggestions for writing better stories.