Their Home

She sat at the edge of the stream and stared at the house. Their home.

The tumbling water reminded her of a song. She could hear the melody in her head. But the words just wouldn’t come. It’s not fair. Songs are not her department. TV shows and historical facts. But not songs. That’s his lane.

He’s supposed to be here. He would know.

But he’s no longer here. Or there. In that house that was their home.

For just a moment she was overwhelmed by anger. Then frustration. But that stupid song would have to wait.

It was time.

Photo Credit to Brian Brakebill (who thankfully is still very much with me and continues to inspire me with his photos) 

Inspired by and written for Friday Fictioners and the PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson with some further inspiration from Reena’s Exploration Challenge (home) and Fandango’s FOWC (melody) and Your…