Can you furnish a better story for this photo for me? HERE is the pingback to include with your post if you’d like to participate the talented Judy Dykstra-Brown‘s latest new prompt.
There wasn’t a vein in Jr’s arm he hadn’t tapped. He kept at it, even when he knew the next hit could do him in for good.
“To hell with this cowboy hat,” Jr said to no one in particular as his favorite slid from his head and his body collapsed against the marble edge of the park’s main entrance. The bells rang again masking the ringing in his ears.
Sundays in San Pedro were quiet strolls in the park, and Jr’s outburst wouldn’t gain him any sympathy with the locals. He’d taken his dang belt off and on again so many times to tie his arm for the next fix that it was stretched almost beyond use and hung limply around his dwindling waist.
“Sun can’t kill me any faster than the rain,” he added, lifting his hand to shield his eyes. The sunglasses weren’t cutting it, and he hoped to fall asleep for a few hours, a few days even, and wake up in a place where the bank hadn’t taken the farm. A place where his wife had stayed despite the bankruptcy. Somewhere where there’d never been three months of drunkenness, and his two young children hadn’t been taken by the state.
But it was more likely he’d be awakened by night’s itchy fall and the mosquitoes nipping at his forehead reminding him what he had left to live for.
©2025|K.F.Hartless
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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