December was always her favorite month. She said there was something about the December sky at night; a backdrop of winter blue velvet, beautiful and silent.
The diner looked the same, maybe newer, fancier …shinier somehow. The old man stood and looked at the diner one last time. Memories. A tear escaped and made its way down his cheek, to be quickly wiped away. Becky Lee would be pleased, he thought, the funeral had turned out nice. Today he buried the love of his life. Tomorrow he would start again, for her, under the December skies.
This post is part of Friday Fictioneers. PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Until next time …
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