He was sweating. His back ached. His arms couldn’t carry the heavy parcel much further along the pedestrianised street.
4300, 4301, 4302… Almost there.
He didn’t think about the walk back to the start of the street that awaited. His car was parked outside house No.1.
4376. He had made it. He dropped the parcel and slumped on it, catching his breath, letting his muscles recover.
He rang the bell on the gate.
No answer. Please God, no.
He tried again.
He took out a slip and checked the box: ‘Delivery attempted. Will try again tomorrow.’ He popped it in the mailbox and despondently picked up the parcel.
4376, 4375, 4374…
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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