PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart
Willa sits in the cafe with black coffee and lemon tart. It is Joey’s eighteenth birthday. She’d made him lemon tart every birthday until his tenth.
Jim gave no hint he’d abscond with Joey. Jim had been served with papers at noon; by two they were gone. Had he been expecting it; to be so prepared?
Her phone dings with a text. It reads, “Mom. It’s Joe. I’m in Venezuela. I’m on my way home.” Attached is a photo of a handsome young man.
Her head falls to the table. The cup clatters to the floor. Her tears are waterfalls.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the sunny host of Friday Fictioneers. And I agree with Rochelle: