George stares out the window. He doesn’t read anymore, not even the paper; no television either. Just watches the joggers running; the seasons changing.
Been like that since they found Rhonda brutally murdered in the alley behind the ‘Honk-If-Your from Texas’ bar.
He’d sit at the bar talking to Rhonda, great gal with a chest to match.
George eats, sleeps, and stares out the lace-curtained window in the hope he sees her.
His meals are tasteless.
His bills paid.
He sits waiting for the day he’ll see Rhonda again, not much hope alone in a padded cell.
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt©Rochelle Wisoff- Fields
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