“The album’s on hold. I’ve downsized,” he would tell people. “You’ve been kicked out,” they would hear. “We grew apart, went our separate ways,” he would continue. “You cheated on your wife, she found out, took the kids and rinsed you for everything you had,” they would interpret.
Frank took a deep breath and moved to the kitchen.
“Vacuum the house, wash the sheets, pay the water bills.” His mind was a muddle of chores. “But first,” he thought aloud, “tea.”
As he stirred the brew he recited his list.
“Pay the sheets, water the spare room, tidy the oven.”
This week I’ve attempted to rewrite an extract from a story I’ve been (trying) to write over the last year. The story of down and out, Frank – a failed musician, trying to get his life back on track. Whilst I have a synopsis, characters and a plan, I’ve not made much progress. I really ought to change that.
The photograph reminded me of the sort of space Frank had been left with.
So I hope you’ll indulge me a little – besides, it was fun (as well as a good exercise) trying to edit this paragraph or two down to 100 words.
This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Follow the link and give it a try yourself!
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