They were about ten cars from the front now. They should get a space on the next ferry. They watched the lucky ones on the departing ship disappear from view.
‘How long have we got?’
She glanced at her watch. ‘Half an hour. We should make it.’
‘Any word from Artie?’
‘They made it across. They’re joining the queue now.’
Behind them an exasperated driver honked their car horn.
‘What good is that going to do?’
‘Don’t make a fuss,’ she warned him.
‘Every year it’s the same. Why don’t they put on extra ferries?’
‘Apple don’t control the ferry transport service,’ she paused. ‘Yet.’
A returning ferry came into view.
‘Next year,’ he said, ‘we’re crossing to the mainland the day before and camping outside the store.’
‘How many times, son? It’s just a ‘phone.’
He rolled his eyes at her. ‘You old people will never understand.’
She looked at the people around her on the crowded jetty. No, she never would understand.
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story or poem in around 150 – 175 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.
To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
Iain Kelly 
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