They were nearly there, near the sunlight-glinted theatre doors. An overhead clock pointed to ten-past starting.

She looked back, down the warm-yellow sidewalk. Slowly but always steadily, he came with his slanted plodding. He’d never had an impeding injury; she teased that he walked in unknown imitation of his own, flat-flooted father.

Sinking sunset rays flared an occasional reflection from his eyeglasses as he turned to look behind: at their parked car across the street, to either side: interesting geological landscape, and forward (finally): to his waiting wife.

She held out a hand; smiling, loving. “Let’s go, Boots.”


Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge

14 thoughts on “Boots

    • Chelsea Owens January 21, 2018 / 10:06 pm

      He’s only made for walking. 😀 No running.
      I think she loves how dependable he is.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Charli Mills January 24, 2018 / 9:55 pm

    What wonderful and personal details to create this scene. Great nickname!


  2. Michael B. Fishman January 25, 2018 / 5:56 am

    A sweet story of what I imagined to be an elderly couple. That second paragraph was really great.


    • Chelsea Owens January 25, 2018 / 2:42 pm

      Thank you, Michael. My dad’s been like for as long as I can remember. 😀


  3. Colleen Chesebro January 25, 2018 / 7:28 pm

    Splendid! ❤


  4. Shallow Reflections February 19, 2018 / 4:36 am

    What a vivid picture you have painted, Chelsea, of a loving couple who has adapted to each other as age has had its way with them. I loved it!

    Liked by 1 person

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