Grandma opened her eyes for the last time that night, then she recalled, “I remember the day of your grandfather’s passing. It had been raining that entire week. I had just rushed home from the market, my clothes were soaking wet and so were the groceries. I entered the room and your mother was beside his bed, reading to him. His eyes were closed, the doctor had probably given him some medication to help him sleep. Your mother saw me and smiled. I smiled back and opened the curtains. The rain had finally stopped and so did my husband’s heart.”
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.