“Simon, what on earth is that?” Christine asked her husband when she noticed the piece of metal in her garden.
“It’s a harp.”
“I can see that. I meant, what exactly is it doing in the garden?”
“I will restore it. Those things are worth a lot of money so I couldn’t just leave it sitting in that scrapyard to turn to rust.”
“Like the car in the garage, you mean? Simon, you know you will never do it. Besides, it is already rust.”
“You have no faith in me, Christine.”
She shook her head and, sure enough, one year later it was still sitting in the garden in exactly the same state.
I wrote this in response to this week’sSunday photo fiction.