Ever since she’d been little she’d harboured romantic notions of curling up by the fire with a steaming hot chocolate and a good book, every now and then turning to read aloud the bits that made her smile to the one she loved.
But it had been a long winter. There was no fire. No chocolate (hot or otherwise). The books had been read, sold & turned into sustenance.
Her wrinkled fingers shakily pulled the itchy blanket close to her chin. The ball of fur on her lap twitched an ear.
She closed her eyes as the bitterness kissed her lips.
Back once again after another hiatus. Here’s a little 100-worder for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Please feel free to comment, critique, like or subscribe for more!
Oh, and don’t forget to check out the other stories based on this picture.
