Lost And Thinking Of All I’ve Lost

Try as I might, I can’t focus on the doctor’s instructions and since it’s my Great Aunt Shirl who’s come to pick me up, I know she isn’t concentrating either. So I’m very happy for the stapled sheets of papers that they put into the plastic bag imprinted with patient’s belongings.

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No Longer Your Girl Friday

02-jhardycarroll-05-february-2017

© J Hardy Carroll

Sunday Photo Fiction⇐this is the link if you want to participate.

Thank you to Alistair at Sunday Photo Fiction as always for providing this prompt! To read more stories for this prompt, click here.


No Longer Your Girl Friday

I think my editor’s having me on. Maybe I deserve it after I left him tied up to the headboard naked in the hotel room, but what’s a little fun between old friends?

“This is your collection, Mr. Jackson?” I ask, my finger hovering over the record button.

The elderly man nods. “Yes, I have Coca-Cola bottles that have the fingerprints of Elvis Presley on them. And, see that fancy vodka bottle? Marilyn Monroe herself pursed her lips against that bottle.”

While the bottles look old, they’re just there, dusty, like they could have been sitting there for years in this house that has definitely seen better days.

“How do you know for sure?”

The man turns his bloodshot blue eyes on me. “Know what?”

“That Elvis or Marilyn had anything to do with these bottles?”

“I’ve got pictures,” he says.

Relief. So maybe Bill was on the up and up. “Can I see the pictures?”

“I thought you might.” He hands me a pile of Polaroid photos, each with a different bottle but nothing else.

I shake my head as I go through them. “There’s nothing here.”

Mr. Jackson nods. “The dead don’t show up in Polaroid pictures.”

 

end 2/7/2017

S. Darlington