PHOTO PROMPT © Bill Reynolds
I had finally done it. I had successfully built myself a home where no one could bother me. My camper was exactly what I needed in this stage of my life. I had spent the last weeks perfecting what clothes and items would fit and where they should live. The next step would be to finally write that one hit song I needed to reach the top. Once there, I would be able to die happy. If only the campers next to me had not overheard me singing, they would still be alive and thriving. Just like all my neighbors.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.
Standing Room Only 