AFTER THE STORM

 

AFTER THE STORM

Once the storm had passed, Lewis surveyed the wreckage. The whole thing lay in ruins, irretrievably broken.

He picked up a chair, remembering how the two of them used to sit happily watching the sunset, a bottle between them.

That was the cause of tonight’s trouble – after they’d finished one bottle he’d asked her for another, and she’d accused him of treating her like a waitress. She shouldn’t have spoken to him so disrespectfully.

He fetched the bottle for himself and sat down to drink, watching the calm waters of the bay, which gave no hint as to what lay beneath them.

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Another photographic prompt from Dale Rogerson, who  must live with a camera permanently attached to her hand! I hope this picture wasn't taken in her own back yard. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisoff.com/

My story this week was written between the numerous examinations necessary before my husband can have his second cataract operation which, after being on hold for 18 months, is now scheduled for May. Then, we hope, he can have one pair of glasses rather than two!