Image Source: Dawn M. Miller
“Are you sure it’s here?”
“I don’t know. All mother would say was that she sold it to Bob.”
“This is Bob’s stall, but I don’t see him or the lamp.”
Kate thought of her mother. Sweet but senile. Yesterday, she had sold most of her antiques to her neighbor, the nosy dealer. He had ripped her off.
All Kate needed was the lamp. Her father’s.
Her only memory of her father was that of him sitting in the study, with the lamp on and a book in his hands.
She was 4 when he died.
She was never going to find the lamp now, was she?
This is written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge – Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. Today’s prompt is the above picture.
Hope you enjoyed.