Three days. It had been three days since they delivered the box. Technically, three days, four hours, and 37 minutes. But who’s counting.
She knew he was there. The gate squeaked. It had been over two weeks since he’d left. Technically 15 days, three hours, and 22 minutes. But who’s counting.
Or 14 days, 21 hours, and 13 minutes since he’d returned. Drunk, sunburned, screaming multiple profanities at her window. But who’s counting.
Maybe he’s dead. Like Benjamin. And Lila. One more makes 213,323. But who’s counting.
Alone. Still. 197 days, three hours, and 23 minutes. But who’s counting.
(99 words. But who’s counting.)
PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays
Thanks to Rochelle and her Friday Fictioners Challenge.
Channeling my negative energy into words. At least I’m writing. UGH!
Tina Stewart Brakebill 