The Portrait – #FRIDAYFICTIONEERS
Photo Prompt © Mikhael Sublett
I heard about the tremors that had shaken the area on my way back. I was not worried because I was an old man with nobody to call my own. I had few belongings I could lose. I lived in a room on the ground floor. I hurried back to my room worried only about losing one thing. I reached my room soon. I entered and surveyed the damage. Most of my belongings were intact. But what really mattered was that the portrait my dead granddaughter had made for my birthday was intact. I clutched it fiercely to my chest.
Word Limit: 100 words.
Author’s Note:: This post has been written in response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Photo Prompt Page Friday Fictioneers