Gary’s alarm woke him at 7am. Gloria rolled over. He really should get up and go for a run. It was the only morning this week he’d get the chance.
As soon as his foot poked out the bed, he felt the chill in the air. No, he could afford to leave it this morning.
He started to feel guilty. He should do some exercise. Even a short run would be better than nothing. Christmas was coming – he had to lose weight so he could eat what he wanted over the festive season.
He stumbled out of bed. He put on layers of clothing and looked outside. Frost lay over everything, thick like snow.
He crept downstairs and stepped out the door. There was a thud as Gary’s foot slipped on the frosted step and he landed on his back, followed by an audible bout of swearing.
Gloria came downstairs half an hour later to find Gary slumped on the sofa, still wrapped up in his running clothes.
‘Decided not to go after all?’ she asked.
‘I think I’ve damaged my coccyx,’ Gary answered with a pained expression.
‘Well, I did say maybe running wasn’t for you,’ Gloria said, and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). For more details visit HERE.
To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
Iain Kelly 
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