Written for Sunday photo fiction

Photo courtesy of David Meredith, photographer

“Daniel!” I yelled for my husband as I held the newspaper in it. ” I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what, honey?”

“Remember all of those times I told you about my childhood house? How I always wondered what happened to it?”

“You tell me every day, dearest.”

“It is in the newspaper. Apparently, it is up for auction. I am not saying that we should buy it or anything like that, but I just want to have a look around.”

He shrugged. “No harm in looking.”

“There is only one room I really want to see as that is where all the memories are. The kitchen. I can remember the Aga always being on a smell of freshly baked bread filling the house. The cupboards always brimming with all the food you can imagine. The colours. The colours were absolutely amazing.”

Daniel reached over to take the paper out of my hands where he studied it. “I am not sure looking would be the best plan.”

“Why?”

“It is abandoned, and the kitchen isn’t what you remember.” Daniel disappeared into his office.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I listened to sounds of searching.

“Grabbing my wallet.”. For crying