This week’s picture is from a long-time former Fictioneer. The story wrote itself and when it came out at 99 words, there could only be one word needed to complete it. Miss you, Doug.
I was new. He’d been there forever, or so it seemed. The man in the distance: always there with a friendly wave and a shout across the abyss. The word itself was foreign, alien to me, but the tone and the wave were welcoming. He made me feel at home, like someone had saved a space for me in this strange new world.
After a while, his appearances became less reliable, and then one day, he was gone. I was settled by then: comfortable and safe. I no longer needed his waves, but I missed them all the same.