The overnight snowfall showed no sign of melting. He gave up any thought of his daily walk to the local shop, then remembered it would be closed anyway. A white Christmas would have made her happy.
He sat back in his armchair. On the radio they were playing the classic Christmas songs. The lights on the tree twinkled. Under it sat the wrapped present. He had felt foolish buying something for her when she was no longer here, but it was part of the Christmas routine they had kept for sixty years. This year there was no parcel for him sitting under the tree.
He heard the car engine revving as tyres span along the road. The doorbell rang and he shuffled along the hall to greet his guests.
The quiet was shattered as his grandchildren burst in. ‘Merry Christmas Grandpa!’ Despite the cold blast of air, it was a warm glow they brought into the empty house. Their father rushed past laden with bags of food and presents, futilely trying to calm them down.
His daughter gave him a warm hug. ‘Merry Christmas Dad.’ She drew back and he saw the sympathetic look. He drew her in close again.
‘Merry Christmas, darling.’
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Al Forbes. For more details visit HERE.
To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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