‘Add your name.’
There wasn’t much space left on the walls. What had once been grey concrete was now covered in garish name-tags.
I found a small corner.
‘Not there,’ Marguerite stopped me. ‘Front and centre.’
‘There’s no space.’
‘There’s always room for one more.’ The old lady pointed to a spot in the middle of the wall.
I sprayed my name. Another success story in her one-woman crusade to steer the local kids away from the gangs and the drugs.
‘You understand the significance of signing your name? You’ve made a promise to me.’
I nodded. Somehow, like all those before me, I knew I wouldn’t let her down.
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).