Single-handed, Josh grabbed the lever and pulled up the garage door and immediately, thick clouds of dirt and dust attacked us. “Gramps really hasn’t been here since he’d been sick, had he?” Josh mused.
Everything in the garage was covered in a thick layer of dirt. The shelf in the back caught my eyes. On it were seashells, wreaths, and all kind of weird objects. “What’s that?” Josh asked.
“Gramps was a collector of rare objects and this was the place he came to place his trophies.” I put my hand over my mouth as tears flowed. So many memories.
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.