Is it still Wednesday? Why yes, it is. Does it matter? Why no, it doesn’t! It is, however, time for Friday Fictioneers and I needs must thank Rochelle for being such a wonderful hostess and this week, thanks to go Alicia Jamtaas for her wonderful photo. If you want to play along, or simply read other submissions, just click on the frog below!
The Whistle Blows
Fred shuffled to his rocking chair set up on the wrap-around porch and sighed as he settled into it.
The breeze tickled his cheek and he swore carried with it the whistle of the five o’clock train. He was ten and running out to meet it, counting how many freight cars there were. Sometimes the train was so long, he got lost in the numbers. One thing was for sure and certain. The last car was always the caboose and the conductor always leaned out and waved back. Never failed to make him smile.
Who you waving at, Grandpa?…. Grandpa?