Jamie had long dreamed of a truck of his own, and now he had it. Saturdays, he and Jeremy would get together and tinker. He was a lucky man: he had a friend to share his passion – and Jenny. Jenny brought morning coffees and evening beers; between-times he’d wave, and she’d smile.
This Saturday he woke late, alone. Jenny was probably organising breakfast.
. . . . . . . .
In a motel bedroom, Jenny smiled at Jeremy, bringing morning coffees. She’d long dreamed of a man of her own.
She thought of Jamie’s truck, abandoned at the airport, and she dreamed of it disappearing – swallowed up by the grass, for all she cared.
Another short, short story written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers. The goal is to write a 100 word story with a beginning, middle and end, in response to a picture prompt. This week’s picture is courtesy of Roger Bultot.