Photo courtesy of The Reclining Gentleman
It isn’t just the house I miss.
The sunflower yellow kitchen. The light streaming through the French windows, warming a spot on the carpet where the cat would sleep. It’s the noises that make up a home. Waking to the sound of crashing waves, the creak of the third stair whenever someone stepped on it, the screech of seagulls as I walked Ella to school, her small hand wrapped in mine. The crunch of shingle underfoot as I strode across the beach on the way home – salt air filling my lungs.
I miss those sounds. I miss you.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Pop along to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries.