comfort

“How many years?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Oh, my… But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you come back now?”
“I’ve no one there. No job, either. My mom’s here. And my sister, too.”
“Uh-huh. And how are you doing so far?”
“Better than I thought I would, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
“Things are different from what you remember or are used to, I suppose.”
“The sky’s the same.”

For Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
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13 thoughts on “comfort

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