The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.
A bit late, but….I was almost done, so decided why not.)
“Well?” came the tiny voice over the receiver in my ear.
“Can you do it?”
I sighed. “Yes, absolutely.” Piece of cake, though I didn’t say such to him. If I had, I’ve of spent the next year of my life explaining why.
“I’ll be at the door.”
Yeah, you do that.
I wasn’t sure why he wanted the old thing, besides it being fricking old. There are, however, some things best left unsaid and this was one.
An hour later, I slipped out the side door, conveniently cut off from the alarm system. He was there as promised, anxious. I’d never known anybody as constantly anxious as John.
I opened my sports bag and pulled out the grappling hook. “I’d suggest you move along with it.”
“Thank you,” he said, clutching it close as he disappeared around the corner of the museum.
I Jogged the other way, bag lighter by a touch, but still heavy.
What John doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.