Dear Rochelle and fellow Friday Fictioneers, This is my second stab at writing for this week’s prompt. I guess I must be out of practice: instead of fictioneering I ranted for a hundred words, posted then banished from inlinkz when I realized a piece of fiction it was not. Back to the photo prompt and finding my muse again. :>)
Genre: Fiction; Word count: 100 Come along and join in with Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt and limit our words to 100 or less. Click on the frog to read more stories.
Andrea gripped her husband’s hand tightly as Grace ripped open the letter. It was from her birth mother. The fifteen-year-old had made them promise to give it to Grace when she too reached fifteen.
You were loved every moment I carried you. Just wanted you to know that. There won’t be a moment when I don’t love you.
Sighing, Grace looked up from the blunt, childish scrawl, a smile on her face.
“I believe her. She could have thrown me away like a piece of garbage. Speaking of which, Dad, can we get back to fixing up my motorcycle?”