even the postman would remember. (sunday photo fiction).

140 01 January 24th 2016I did not come home as often as you wanted—my extended working hours made me sleep with bottles of caffeine. Beneath the yellow light shade of the table lamp, I worked with my pencil to sculpt the bizarre figure of your dream.

Once, we traveled too much that we broke our bank accounts. I promised you we would return to all the cities who did not remember us by building a structure in our hometown, where the people would remember it was made by our hands. Each passing night, I forgot about you just to search for the formula that would rise us high.

Until, one dawn, I returned home only to your memories.

How are you, today?

I seal the envelope with my scent before I give it to the postman; someone has told me you are staying in a hotel for a conference. Please read the letter.

Go to the 37th floor of the hotel and knock on the third door to your left. A helper will guide you to the balcony, where you will see the reason you left me.

The pyramid-style building of your fantasy is finally established.

I am ready to go without you.

Check out this week’s prompt:
Sunday Photo Fiction


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

17 thoughts on “even the postman would remember. (sunday photo fiction).

Add yours

  1. I’m not sure I followed all of this story, but it made me stop and think for a moment. It made me feel for both the unnamed speaker and the recipient of his words. That is the mark of a good story – to make the reader stop and think. Congrats!

    Liked by 1 person

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