She had kept the room exactly as it had been for 45 years. Everything dusted and cared for as if a child from the past was going to run home from school and be welcomed by a fun filled room of toys. “What kind of love expresses itself that way?”, he asked himself.
Gary had been climbing the old oak down the street, that overcast day. His younger brother was adventurous in a way that he could not relate to being a bookaholic from an early age. The love between them was sincere but time spent together rare. In his room, he heard one of Gary’s friends yelling. “Mrs. Martin! Mrs. Martin! Come here. quick!” Lying on the ground with blood pouring out of his 6-year-old head was a sight he would never forget. It had marked his life forever. He missed Gary very much. The love of his mother, though, was a love that, at that moment, he envied. The dedication that she had displayed touched his heart.
Sorting through her belongings was a job he had dreaded but now he looked forward to it. He would honor her by carefully disposing of everything that had meaning to her. He was sure that many people would enjoy!
© Carol Campbell
Photo challenge for flash fiction.
❤ ❤ ❤