PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
It was the last bench I ever sat on and it was the place I remembered wanting you. I knew I would never sit on another one, especially after you spray painted the heart on the bench as we walked away. I didn’t know it would be the last time to talk to you. The last time to hear your laugh. The last time I knew you were mine. Later that night I would see you with her. Sylvia. The one you swore you would never see again. Now no one would ever see you ever again.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.
Standing Room Only 